All Those Who Wander Are Lost
by angst cupcake
Summary: 'Waking up to silence is an odd, eerie feeling. Not the silence of the day that's filled with birds chirping and cars passing by. No, waking up to silence, waking up to nothing.' Sam x Kurt, zombie!gleefic.
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: All Those Who Wander Are Lost 1/?**  
**  
**Rating**: R

**Character(s)/Pairing(s)**: Kurt Hummel/Sam Evans (with other pairings thrown in along the way)

**Author Notes**: I LOVE ZOMBIES. LIKE A LOT, YOU GUYS. AND I LIKE GLEE. LIKE EVEN MORE SO. /capslock abuse. And I've been dying to write a zombie!fic for about a million years now, and I rather adore the thought of our Glee friends being in the midst of it. I also like Sam/Kurt. And Sam/Kurt + Glee + zombies = kinda, really awesome.

PS - I had no beta, so I apologize for any mistakes. D:

**Warning**: gore, violence, swearing, character death.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own. Maybe a good thing. There'd be gay sex every where. With Kurt. Everywhere.

* * *

Waking up to silence is an odd, eerie feeling. Not the silence of the day that's filled with birds chirping and cars passing by. No, waking up to silence, waking up to_ nothing_. Samuel Evans woke up to nothing the morning of his seventeenth birthday. There were no birds chirping. There weren't cars passing by. He couldn't hear the commotion of his twin brothers downstairs. He couldn't hear his mother calling them to stop and get ready for school. His alarm hadn't gone off. In fact, the digital clock was blank.

And somehow, the silence was so much louder than any noise as he rose from his bed and went to his window. There was sun. There was a sky, and in the sky, there were clouds. In fact, it looked like a gorgeous day. Warm, even. He opened his window – and the pleasantness of the day seemed to melt. The _smell_ hit him. It was filled with a horrid stench that he couldn't even begin to compare to anything. It was death, simply put. Rot. It made his stomach curl.

Sam recoiled from the window as if burned and hurried from his room, still in flannel night pants and a long sleeved shirt. His socks slid on the steps as he ran downstairs.

"Lucas? Logan?" Sam called for his brothers. The silence was deafening. Where was everyone? Was this some sort of surprise for his birthday? "Mom?" He began to move faster and ran through to the kitchen where his phone was charging on the counter. He had seventeen text messages and forty-two missed calls. Of them all, fourteen of the texts and thirty five of the calls were from Kurt. He wasn't surprised. He and Kurt had gotten pretty tight Quinn had broken up with him last month. Sleepovers, hanging out, they even got to do that duet that had escaped them back when he'd first joined Glee club. You could say that Kurt Hummel had become his best friend. You could also say that Kurt was _smoking hot_ and made him do double takes every time he walked into a room.

He read the first (technically, it was the last one sent) text message that was on his phone. It was from, unsurprisingly, Kurt: _Wherever you are, get out now. Meet me at my place, others are here._

It was the only message he read before the growling started. It was low, and guttural. It was inhuman, to best be put. Turning around, Sam found his brothers in the adjoining dining room. And he found his mother too. And a visitor. The visitor was couldn't have been much older than him and as he advanced on him, the eviscerated, gored corpses of his family disappeared from view. Sam stood, mortified. The visitor growled again. Sam thought he was wearing a mask because something that gruesome in the face couldn't possibly be real. The being staggered across the room, mangled, outstretched fingers groping for him. When the entire right side of your face looked like it had been peeled off and you're doing a horrible impression of Batman's Two Face, there might be a problem.

_Wherever you are, get out now. Meet me at my place, others are here._

So Sam ran, socks and flannel pajamas and all, taking a second to grab the keys off the counter. He ran out of the house, stopping only momentarily to take in the silence. It was warm out, like he had guessed. Still above him, there was a sky, and in the sky, there were still clouds. And the smell was still there, so horrid and rank as he hopped in his car and lurched it out of the driveway.

He'd honestly been expecting some kind of something like _The Day After Tomorrow_ or _2012_, or maybe even something out of the _Terminator_ with technology taking over the world. An apocalypse of undead walkers was not the way Samuel Evans had expected the world to end.

* * *

Kurt Hummel should have known something was wrong when Carole came home from the clinic where she worked. She'd come home early, complaining of a fever and feeling ill. His father, ever the gentlemen, had put her to bed with a cold cloth on her forehead and a light dose of pain and fever reducers.

He and Finn had been glued to the news. Over the past few weeks, there had been an influx in an unidentified disease across the continent of Asia in pockets stretching from New Delhi, India to Moscow, Russia and was suddenly rapidly growing in Europe. Panic in the United States had been high, but it had began to reach almost catastrophic levels as the first outbreak of the same disease had suddenly popped up in Seattle, Washington and a few days later, had suddenly started to couple with states east of it. There was fear it would start to spread in all directions.

_"Authorities have been unable to identify the exact location of where the virus first originated, but the citizens of the United States should know they are in good hands. We are containing the virus as we speak, you can all rest easy,"_ Their president spoke, reassuring the nation with calm movements of the hands, _"This will all blow over in no time."_

Except it didn't.

* * *

Some time during the night, Carole had risen and while flushed with fever, she wrote Burt a note. She was not oblivious to the outbreaks. In fact, she was all too aware now. She'd just been hoping the patient who'd bitten her at the clinic wasn't infected and was just hysterical. The sickness told her otherwise.

_Burt,_

__

I love you. And I'm so sorry. I honestly wasn't expecting the disease to have gotten this far, just like I was expecting the boy at the clinic to have bitten me. Be careful come tomorrow morning. You'll take good care of Finn for me won't you? Tell Kurt I love him too. Be strong, all of you.

_Love,  
Carole_

It was brief. Carole had gone back to bed. She'd seriously contemplated suicide, but she couldn't. She just couldn't do that. She'd never understood it and she wasn't about to now. Either that or the heat of the fever had gotten too far into her brain that she honestly couldn't think of doing anything anymore.

Burt never did get to read the note. In fact, he didn't even get to wake up that next morning. No one ever got to read the note.

* * *

Kurt awoke the the sounds of dull thuds hitting the floor, and to the sound of Finn cursing at the top of his lungs. Groggy with sleep, Kurt hurried from bed and stumbled up the stairs. As soon as he reached the living room, the thudding had stopped. He stood still, and footsteps were suddenly on the stairs. Heart racing, he slowly approached the stairwell. Before he reached it, Finn rounded the corner. Kurt hid his shriek behind his hands as the other boy stared at him.

"I... she... she was... your dad... and I... I grabbed the bat from my room because she wouldn't stop _eating him_ and I wanted to get her off," Finn began to garble. His shirt bore crimson designs that had spattered across his pants and face, and Kurt nearly threw up as he recognized chunks of brain matter in flecks across his body, "There was so much blood and I... she came at me and I told her no, but she... she wouldn't listen Kurt," Finn's words were choking up and Kurt watched as the lines of blood on his face were interrupted by tears, "I had to Kurt. She... she was gonna... oh god, Burt, and he... I'm so sorry Kurt, I'm so _sorry_."

* * *

Rachel showed up about a half hour later with only one of her fathers. She was dressed in plaid and polka dots. Kurt didn't have the heart to make a single comment as he ushered them inside. Finn was in the shower. He'd been there for over an hour now. The steam had stopped about twenty minutes ago, and Kurt could only chalk it up to the hot water heater coming to a stop. Rachel went in and closed the door and Kurt lead her father to sit in the living room where he gave him served him some tea. It was cold. Some time during the night, the power went out.

Tina, Mercedes and Quinn showed up about an hour later. Mercedes had had both girls over for a sleepover. There was no word on Tina's parents, or Quinn's mother. Mercedes parents had been out to celebrate their seventeen year anniversary down in Florida. No word from them either.

How Jacob Ben Israel found Kurt's house, no one knew, but they let him in. A few hours later, Mike showed up. Tina and him embraced with a frantic kiss that made Kurt's stomach flutter and he wondered if he should do the same whenever Sam got to the house.

Finn was out of the shower then and was sitting numbly beside Rachel's father on the couch while Rachel talked to him softly. Kurt had managed to send Sam fourteen texts in counting before he got one back.

_im out. u ok?_

Kurt almost cried when he read it. He'd been horrified for the longest time that Sam had been dead, or worse. Kurt wasn't about to get shy. He'd harbored the deepest love for the blonde jock since they'd first met. And when Quinn broke up with him – so he says, though she says he broke up with her – and Sam turned to him for support, Kurt took it as a chance to get close to the other.

He didn't take advantage of it, he never would. But Sam needed a friend, and if that was as close as Kurt got to be, then he was happy with that. Sure, Sam made butterflies tingle in his belly whenever the other boy was near him, but just having Sam trust him was enough for him. And he'd just hoped that he wouldn't lose that to any of those... whatever they were out there.

_I'm okay. Are you on your way?_

_ya. b there soon._

* * *

None of them were actually sure what was going on, or what was happening. People were just... gone. And there were people wandering around out there. But they weren't people. There didn't seem to be a lot of them. At least, not right now.

* * *

Sam and Puck showed up at about the same time. Kurt ran out of the house and down the steps and practically flung himself at the blond boy, hugging him tight. Sam, startled, hugged him back before hurrying them for the house. Puck was carrying a young girl in the cradle of one arm, and in his opposite hand, he held a shotgun. The girl had eyes as wide as saucers and when he put her down, she began to scream at the top of her lungs. Everyone immediately tried to hush her and when Puck pulled her back on his hip, she was quiet.

But not soon enough because the moaning started then, as if answering her scream. Not one, but several. It soaked them in an icy chill to the bone – to the core. Kurt slowly went to the threshold and he could feel eyes on every inch of him as he stood in the doorway. He counted them, watching with a horrified awe as they seemed to just surface from the blue. So many of them. Kurt didn't understand how this happened so fast. It just didn't seem possible.

Sam's hands were suddenly over his eyes and he felt himself being pulled back. While Sam walked Kurt away from the door, Rachel closed it, and locked it tight.

* * *

Kurt went to the attic, and behind him, he had summoned Puck and Sam to follow him. The one thing about his father that Kurt had forever admired was that he never lied. And that included all the threats of an entire artillery against boys Kurt hadn't even met yet – he hadn't been lying.

"Holy _shit_ dude. How many has he got up here?"

* * *

Days passed.

The walking, ghastly creatures soon had a name: wanderers.

"How is this spreading so _fast_?" Tina had whispered.

A day later they were joined by a young man who stumbled up the front steps and collapsed at Kurt's door. His flesh was torn and bitten, and his skin seemed to radiate heat like a furnace with fever. His eyes were bloodshot, his throat dry, and he coughed blood and shivered violently, complaining of aches. He died the next day.

Except not really.

They awoke to Jacob screaming and when the room was illuminated, everyone was suddenly screaming. The dead stranger had risen, and was now making a meal out of Jacob's innards. Sam took the bat from Finn and in a flash of surprising strength and quickness, the wanderer's brain was splattered across the floor. They kept Jacob alive for two days. In that time, he succumbed to a fever, coughing and shivering before he passed away. He rose a day later. The connection was made, and Jacob was killed and buried in the backyard. It wasn't glamorous, but they couldn't be outside for long and it was the best they could do.

Avoid being bitten or scratched. They could do that. Right?

* * *

Kurt wasn't sure how many days passed after that, but they had made a habit of boarding and curtaining up the windows to the best of their ability. They'd found out early on that the wanderers were more active during the night, and were attracted to any source of light, like swarms of moths. And that gunning any of them down was like ringing their dinner bell – they had to lay low for hours afterward just to keep themselves out of harm's way.

The food supply was becoming low. They were trying to conserve what they could, but that was becoming more difficult with all of them in the one house. They'd gone out and raided the neighboring houses, but when Rachel's dad didn't come back, they'd stopped. They started saving water in cans and jugs, any kind of container they could find.

"We're going to have to leave soon." Puck said quietly one evening as he sat on the couch, his sister's head in his lap. He'd told them shortly after they'd met her and once she'd calmed down that her name was Sarah. Puck pushed hair from her eyes. She'd been having trouble sleeping, and it was one of the rare moments where she seemed to be deep in sleep.

"I know." Kurt said quietly. He had become nestled into Sam's side on the loveseat. The blonde boy seemed to be trying to stay awake, but his head kept dropping before it hit the arm of the couch and stayed there. Kurt moved in closer as a series of moans came warbling through the air. He shivered, and it wasn't even cold. Kurt studied Puck from across the room. The gentle flicker of the candle made shadows dance on his face.

"Think the others will agree?"

"They won't have a choice. Unless they want to starve. And they can't stay here forever, not if this gets... out of hand."

"We can leave them with a gun if that happens." Puck said, and from the way his jaw moved in the light, Kurt could tell he was speaking through gritted teeth. Kurt was confused and when Puck looked over at him, Kurt felt that he shouldn't be, but he was.

Puck sighed, looking away again, "Hummel. There are moments where I know I would kill myself. If I was about to be eviscerated by one of those... fucking _things_ out there, I'd want to make sure I had a gun with me so I could shoot myself first."

* * *

They waited for the others. That was the reason that the others had argued to stay. Rachel had pleaded, saying her father might return. Tina had said Artie might show up, that he'd just lost his phones. Mercedes was waiting on her parents. Quinn had been hoping for her mother, and that Mr. Shuester or Sue Sylvester might appear.

No one else came. Not until Brittany.

They'd been packing for a day or so now, finally relenting. Not letting go or losing hope, but understanding it was time to go. They each left their own notes and left them folded on Kurt's kitchen counter in case one of their friends or family's found it, or maybe even a stranger, to give them hope that there were others out there.

Rachel had been trying to occupy Sarah with packing when the little girl was suddenly screaming and pointing frantically out the window, clinging to Rachel's skirt frantically. Rachel had slapped a hand over her mouth, before fixing her gaze out the window.

"Oh my god. Oh my _god_." Rachel practically drug Sarah down the stairs, and they met Puck halfway. Sarah jumped on him and he held her tight, staring at Rachel frantically.

"What the hell's going on?" He snapped. The others came to the bottom of the stairs. Rachel covered her mouth with her hands; she looked like she were about to cry. Finn came up the stairs and held her close.

"There's a lady outside." Sarah said quietly. Eyes turned towards the little girl. "She was coming towards the house. Don't let her in Noah, don't let her in!"

"Puck," Rachel swallowed tightly, speaking from behind her hands, "It's Brittany." Puck nodded, and headed down the stairs and the others solemnly followed. They didn't want to have to kill another creature and summon hundreds of them while they were simultaneously trying to get out of the house. But it might be necessary. Puck placed Sarah inside the kitchen pantry.

"Stay here. Quinn, can you-"

"Of course." Quinn went in and knelt beside the young girl who clung to her immediately. Rachel was still crying, but as Puck turned around, he found her holding a shotgun in shaking hands. Puck made a reach for it, but it was Kurt he grabbed it first.

"What're you–" Puck started, eyes narrowing, but Kurt was already halfway to the door. Sam followed swiftly behind. The gun was shaking in his grasp as he followed the brunette boy out of the door. His eyes should have been searching for any wanderers, but for a moment, they were watching Kurt's ass sway in those sinfully tight black leggings. At that moment, Sam's dick became aware he probably hadn't had a single sexual related thought in nearly a week and a half now. He began to seriously debate going up to the smaller boy, turning him around, and kissing the life out of him.

He stopped himself when he saw Brittany. She was crying as she approached them, and when she saw Kurt, it was like watching a ray of sunshine pierce the gray skies when she smiled. Kurt ran to her, but stopped short just a few feet. Sam paused behind him, and Sam heard Puck's feet come to a half not too soon after. Sam didn't understand how Brittany was still walking. There were chunks of flesh jaggedly torn from her calves and thighs, and her right arm had several bites covering it from wrist to shoulder.

"Britt..." Kurt breathed out. Brittany paused at the sound of her name. The smile faltered slightly.

"She didn't mean it Kurtie. She chased the bad guy out of the house and her shoulder was bleeding but she said it'd be okay," Brittany's voice was lilting, breathlessly hysterical, "When she bit me, I just thought they were sweet lady kisses," No one had really known who she was talking about until that moment. Kurt hurt Puck swear under his breath. "Then they started to hurt," Brittany grimaced, "It really hurt. It still really hurts."

She tried to come closer, but Kurt already had to gun cocked and she stopped again. Kurt's hands were shaking; so was the gun.

"Kurt, you can't seriously be thinking of-"

"She'll be one of them. She could hurt us."

"But Kurt-"

"Shuttup, Sam."

"Kurt-"

"_Shuttup, Sam_." Kurt snapped and Sam went quiet. Brittany was crying silently and Kurt wiped his eyes. Sam dropped his gun. Kurt was strong, but was he this strong? That ice queen face might not save him from now on. Would it really save anyone? Maybe if you grew numb to it. But how could you grow numb to killing someone you love? Wouldn't it just... _hurt_?

"Jesus." Puck suddenly breathed out. Kurt's gun shifted. Sam sucked a sharp gasp.

"She followed me. She wants to give me more sweet lady kisses, but they hurt." Brittany was crying again, hands buried in her blood-caked palms. From behind her, Santana's form had surfaced from around the block. Her head was bent low. Her hair was in dark, tangled tousles about her face. When she raised her head, Kurt nearly vomited. The entire right cheek was hallowed out, and her teeth gnashed together when she saw them. Her lips were cracked, and her nails were yellow, fingers gnarled as she reached out for them.

"Don't you shoot her." Puck suddenly growled as Kurt cocked back the trigger. Their eyes flickered to him.

"This isn't a moment to get sentimental." Kurt said sternly as he side-stepped Brittany to get a better aim. Puck aimed his gun at Kurt, glaring at him. Sam's gun turned on Puck instinctively. Kurt's eyes flashed to the other, and Sam stood between them, apprehensive. From the house, Finn and Mike appeared.

"She's getting closer."

"Don't you shoot her Hummel. I fucking mean it. Don't you shoot her." Puck's breath was hitching, and Kurt looked momentarily surprised to see his eyes growing red and irritated with tears. Sam stepped between the muzzle of the gun, and Kurt's back, his own firearm still held up.

"Get out of the way Evans, or I'll blow your fucking head off–"

"It's not Santana, dude. It's not her. Let Kurt do this." Sam urged. He could hear Brittany sobbing. He heard Kurt shift uneasily behind him. Santana was getting ever closer, eyes ablaze with an intense hunger that frightened Finn as he drew closer, Mike by his side.

"Sam's right Puck, it's not her–" Finn put an hand on Puck's shoulder and the other boy whirled around. The butt of his gun made solid contact with Finn's temple. Mike was on him first, tackling Puck to the ground as Finn reeled back, hitting the ground. Sam wanted to help him up, but Mike couldn't hold someone like Puck down, not when the other was fresh on adrenaline.

"Hurry up," Sam whispered to Kurt as he helped keep Puck pinned to the ground. Finn, dazed and stumbling, made his way over and helped. His heart was breaking as he watched Puck struggle, as he watched his best friend cry. In some way, like Quinn, Puck had loved Santana. Wanderer or not, gunning down someone you loved was going to be hard. Finn had had to repeat to himself, over and over, that Carol was no longer his mother, that she was a monster, and that she never would have wanted to be like that – and fuck, he was crying now to.

"Don't shoot her Hummel! Don't you fucking dare!" Puck was shouting and cursing and Brittany was watching Kurt with a strange intensity that made his hands shake further. Santana's stumbling mass was suddenly breaking into an uneven, unsettling form of running. She was making noises, sick, wet, gargling noises as she growled at them. Kurt's hands were sweating.

"Kurt, hurry up–"

"Hummel, don't you dare–"

"She's close, pull the trigger–"

"I swear to God, don't do it–"

Santana's hands closed in on Brittany's shoulders, pulling her backwards toward her open mouth. Kurt pulled the trigger without thinking. Santana seemed to fall in slow motion. Her head whipped back and there was an angry, defiant shout from Puck that Kurt didn't hear as he watched Santana's arms fly into the air. Blood jetted out from between her eyes in a dark stream of liquid. She fell, legs giving way and toppled sideways. She hit the ground with a sickening, wet -_SMACK_-.

Brittany's eyes were on him, doe-eyed and blank. She turned to Santana and gently knelt beside her. The air had stilled. There were no moans. No wind. No birds. Just complete silence. Sam was eerily reminded of his birthday. His birthday he never celebrated. A birthday marked with the loss of so many of their friends.

Brittany gathered Santana's finally lifeless body into her hands and cradled it close. She rocked with it. Her eyes were still glassy. Kurt slowly approached. As he drew closer, he could hear the other girl singing. It was breathless and soft.

_She's so lucky.  
She's a star.  
But she cry, cry, cries in her lonely heart,  
Thinking, if there's nothing missing in my life,  
Then why do these tears come at night?_

Kurt could have laughed. A hysterical, broken laugh. Britney Spears? Only Brittany S. Pierce. Brittany continues to sing and Kurt does laugh this time. It hurts to laugh. And it hurts to smile. And he's crying. He's crying so hard that he can't see what's he doing – which he would later believe to be a blessing – as he pulls the trigger again.

But he doesn't need to see to hear Brittany's soft, sweet voice come to a halt, and hear her body hit the ground beside the girl she'd loved. Kurt blinked and turned away before he could see what he'd done. Puck had stopped yelling and instead, was just crying, tears leaking onto the pavement. Finn, Sam and Mike let go. He was up in a heartbeat and Kurt doesn't move when Puck approaches him. For a moment, they just stand there and Puck's breathing hard and Kurt's barely breathing at all.

And then Puck slaps him.

And then hugs him.

He's crying and limp and Kurt can barely hold them both up. Finn pulls him off and brings him back into the house, Mike following close behind, back into Tina's arms. Kurt continues to stand there. When he looks down, he can see blood seeping in trickles between his legs and around his shoes.

"C'mere," A gentle voice said and Kurt listened to it, following it into the house. The light disappeared as the door was closed behind them. And soon, Kurt found himself buried into Sam's shirt, sobbing his heart out.

* * *

_Reviews are love._


	2. Chapter 2

**Title**: All Those Who Wander Are Lost 2/?

**Rating:** R

**Character(s)/Pairing(s):** Kurt Hummel/Sam Evans (with other pairings thrown in along the way)

**Author Notes:** Chapter two. YAY. I never write stuff this fast. I'm addicted to writing this, I can't even help myself at this point. OGAD, IT'S LIKE CRACK.

**Warning:** gore, violence, swearing, character death.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own. Maybe a good thing. There'd be gay sex every where. With Kurt. Everywhere.

* * *

Leaving the next day was hard. Every one knew they needed to go, but none of them wanted to.

"Where are we going?" Mercedes had asked quietly. She met no one's eyes. No one bothered getting her to try.

"East." Finn spoke as he shifted the backpack on his shoulder. He held Rachel's hand in his own, squeezing it tight. Rachel was looking up at him with a smile of admiration. They kissed. When they broke apart, Finn spoke once more, "It started in the west. We'll head east. There's _got_ to be people still out there and places that are still safe."

Well, at least they hoped so.

They took a combination of Kurt, Sam and Puck's vehicles. While Sam's car was used, Sam drove Kurt's car with Kurt in the passenger seat. He wasn't in any shape to be driving. Quinn went with Sarah and Puck. Finn took Sam's car with Tina and Mercedes and Rachel. Sam drove alone with Kurt, which was probably a bright idea considering the circumstances in that Kurt hadn't spoken since... well...

Actually, that was a lie. Kurt hadn't spoken to anyone, but Sam. He refused to, really. Finn had tried relentlessly, and Rachel had only managed to get a weak nod out of the other before he proceeded to turn his blank gaze back away from her.

"Think we'll find anyone?" Sam asked. He was met with silence. While Kurt might speak to him, it was usually very short, if at all. Kurt gave an aimless shrug and stared out the window. Sam was behind Finn, and Puck was behind them all at the tail.

"Think we'll see anyone we know out east?" Kurt makes some sort of strangled noise that scares the hell out of Sam and it takes a minute for him to register that Kurt's laughing. Not really laughing. He's doing that weird crying and laughing thing he did when he shot Brittany.

"I bet Coach Sylvester is out there. I bet we'll find her, if anyone." Kurt snorted, wiping his eyes on his sleeve and Sam reached over, squeezing the other boy's shoulder. Kurt looked down at it, and laid his cheek against it. Sam's eyes darted back and forth from the road to Kurt and he hopes Finn doesn't plan on slamming on the brakes anytime soon because Sam's pretty sure he'd miss that and get them fucked into some sort of rear-end collision. And Sam knew how Kurt felt about his car, undead wanderer's or not.

Kurt's silent again, but Sam hasn't moved his hand so Kurt hasn't move either. Sam expected his arm to hurt, but really, this is nice and so is Kurt, even if he's a bit... out of it right now. Their eyes meet again and Kurt's turns his face inwards slightly, and suddenly kisses the back of Sam's hand. Sam didn't draw back, but rather flipped his hand over and cupped Kurt's cheek. It was warm and wet and he pushed his hand back to cup Kurt's neck. Kurt placed another kiss on the inside of Sam's wrist and Sam sighed.

When their eyes met again, they shared a moment of recognition: it fucking _sucked_ that it took some end of the world crisis to get them to realize what they'd already known all along.

"I wonder what color your hair will be with the lack of lemon juice." Kurt said suddenly and sat up. Sam's hand fell away, and the knowing smirk was back on the countertenor's face. His eyes were strangely empty, but somewhere deep inside, Sam was sure he saw them flicker with amusement.

"Damn it," Sam swore under his breath, "Did Quinn tell you?"

* * *

For only having traveled two days, they're making progress. Everyone hopes it stays that way. They stay in their cars to sleep, and take turns in the morning to siphon gas from nearby cars. They've got two cans of it in the back; one full, one half full. It seems like a lot, but it's slowly waning down the further they get as less cars are around, or have not much to take and with three cars, it's getting harder.

That Friday, Sam doesn't mean to, but he's so damn tired. They've been taking turns keeping an eye out during the night, and Mike hadn't gotten up for his shift so Sam doesn't go to sleep. He assures Kurt that he's okay to drive – but when Kurt's suddenly screaming and digging nails into his arm, Sam realizes its too late.

"How did you not see her!" Finn waves his arms as they all rush from their cars, despite knowing it's quite possibly the stupidest move they could ever make. Sam's trying not to cry as the little girl's body is twisted in a way Sam's not sure is humanly possible.

"I... I didn't mean to. I was so tired and she... I didn't even see her." Sam tried to explain, making wild gestures with his hands. He didn't mean to hit her. She doesn't look much older than Sarah and Sam can see the disturbed expression on Puck's face as he looks over the mangled body.

"She'd been waving at us to stop–" Tina struggled to get out and Sam's not used to crying _this fucking much_, but he's pretty sure that shit like this warrants it.

"I didn't mean to, I swear, I didn't even see her and she was just there and then – oh my god, I killed her, I killed her, oh my _god_." Sam's almost hysterical because all he can think about as he sees the girl's broken, battered, bloody body is his brothers and his mother and how he's never even mourned for them because there was just no time at all and it's suddenly hitting him like a ton of bricks. It's kind of like a bottle of shaken soda that's just been opened and Sam's suddenly on his knees, sobbing into his hands. No one's really sure what to do, but Kurt does the best he can as he kneels next to Sam. He doesn't touch him, he's just there because he wants Sam to touch him first less he startle the other and make it worse. Sam clings to him, face buried into his shirt and doesn't let go.

Sam doesn't stop crying until Tina's shrieking, and that's about an hour later. They had decided to bury the girl in what time they could make and Tina and Puck are moving her body when the girl stirs. Actually, she doesn't stir. She flails. It's wild and crazed and before anyone can react, her teeth are deep in Tina's forearm. And she won't let go.

Panic immediately set in and at first, no one moves as Puck drops the girl and staggers back, tripping over the make shift grave and the crack of wrist as he tries to catch himself on the way down is like a gunshot. Puck's now yelling and Tina's screaming and the girl is growling as she rips free a large chunk of flesh from the goth girl's arm. Finn shoots her before she goes back in for another bite.

Mike runs to Tina, and she's holding her arm out in front of her as it spouts blood onto the ground in heavy pulses. The sand goes and ugly, dark maroon, and looks like some sort of freakish spider webbing in the soil. Mike whips off his shirt and has it wrapped around her arm in a heartbeat, and everyone's silent as they watch as they watch Mike try to hush Tina's hysterics. He looks like he's about to cry too.

Sam watched, dumbfounded. He didn't kill the girl. She'd already been dead. But she'd bitten Tina. Sam didn't know whether to be relieved, or upset that he hadn't shifted the car in reverse when he'd hit the wanderer in the first place.

* * *

Tina knows what's going to happen to her. She doesn't need anyone looking at her funny, or telling her it's going to be okay, because it's not. She _knows_ that.

Sam and Kurt are trying not to watch and listen from the driver and passenger seat as Mike gently dabbed her arm with the antiseptic and ointment from the small first aid kit they'd brought with them. He looked like he was trying not to be sick as the glimmer of white bone is winking up at them in the light. Tina smiled gently. Her face was pale. Mike pushed back her hair from her eyes and kissed her forehead.

"It's not fair." Mike pressed their foreheads together and Tina's smile looked a little more painful.

"No, I guess not."

"Tina."

"Mike."

"I love you." Mike said wearily and their eyes met. Tina's smile looks more pained than ever before and he doesn't know what to make of it. Instead, he drew back and began to clean out her arm once again, before wrapping it up tight. He leaned back in his seat and Tina grabbed his arm. He looked over at her, swallowing around the thick notch in his throat.

"I just don't want you to love me too much," Tina said quietly and Mike looks stunned. She smiled weakly, "It'll just make it harder for you to let go."

* * *

They find an abandoned department store on the outskirts of Lima. The windows are broken and the remnants of the name on the window are gone. Puck, Kurt, and Rachel are the ones who go in, despite Finn's protest about his girlfriend's safety. Rachel takes a gun and the poor girl doesn't even look like she'd know which way to aim the damn thing, much less fire it. Puck takes a bat.

They come out about five minutes later Puck emerges with two large boxes under his arms and Rachel's trying to balance a carton of snacks in her hands as she runs. It's mostly energy bars and crackers and a few cans of soda, but it's a lot more than what they started off with. The boxes that Puck was holding were two camping tents. They pack up and are on the move again because the three or so wanderers that had been lying on the floor in the store can smell them and everyone's pretty sure there's a lot more where that came from.

Tina's gotten worse. Her fever is growing. It spiked to an ungodly level as they watched the _Leaving Lima, Ohio, come back soon!_ sign disappear. Her skin's almost brutal to the touch, and each time the car hits a bump or comes around a turn, she's crying and choking on sobs. Mike looks torn because they know he wants to do something, but they know he can't do anything either. She worsens with time.

They stop just outside Akron, Ohio for the night. The next morning, Tina was gone. Everyone awakens to Mike yelling for her to wake up, to _come back, god please, come back_, but she's not and Finn and Puck have to physically pry the boy off of her limp body because she's a ticking bomb at this point and no one knew when she passed, just that she was going to come back and they had to decide _now_ about what to do with her.

No one has the heart to shoot her and though people expectantly look towards Kurt, he looks absolutely mortified that they'd think he do that. _Again_. They gently lay her on the side of the road, flattening the long grass, and make sure her dress is laid flat as they rest her hands on her chest. She looks like she's sleeping. They leave her there.

Mike stays.

They never see either of them again.

* * *

They passed through Akron in about a three day's time. They had to leave behind Burt's truck about halfway through as it stalls, shuts off, and doesn't start up again so that ate up some of their time.

And then the first good thing to happen to them meets them on the edge of the city. Kurt's scavenging through an abandoned Dunkin Donuts with Sam as the others are looking around in surround shops, and Puck's watching the cars. Sam's crouching behind one of the glass cases, trying to shove open the door to get into what sweets were left inside when he hears a sharp clicking. It's a gun. And the muzzle's at the back of his head. Sam's hands flew up immediately.

"Stand up." It doesn't ring immediately that the voice is familiar because Sam's honestly terrified. He can see Kurt across the room looking through a selection of juices and waters in a freezer, most likely warm, but still good.

"Turn around." Sam does as he's told, and he prays that this guy doesn't blow his face off because Kurt said he has a really good looking face and he'd like for his good looking face to be making out with Kurt's good looking face some time soon please – and holy Christ, it's _Mr. Shuester_.

Mr. Shuester looks about as surprised as him, "... Sam?" Kurt hears that there's a voice he doesn't recognize and whirls around, gun aimed and ready. It drops when he and Mr. Shuester lock eyes.

"... Kurt?"

"Mr. Shuester? What're you – how did you – oh my god, it's you!" Sam blurts out before he can help himself and he's suddenly got an armful of his former teacher, the two of them hugging each other fiercely. Mr. Shuester rushes to Kurt and nearly sweeps the younger boy off the floor into a twirling hug.

"Are the others here?" Mr. Shuester looks out the window before looking at the other two. They look like they don't know what to say, or how to respond, really.

"Not all of us." Kurt says awkwardly and Mr. Shuester doesn't prod, because honestly, he doesn't need to. He watched as Sam strung an arm loosely around Kurt's shoulder and whispers something reassuringly into his ear. Mr. Shuester smiled softly. He'd always known. It was just sad to see it happen now when it should have happened so much sooner.

"Who's here?" Mr. Shuester licked his lips after he'd given the other boys a moment to calm themselves. He hugged them again, unable to help himself.

"Why don't you come look for yourself."

* * *

_Reviews are love._


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** All Those Who Wander Are Lost 3/?

**Rating:** R

**Character(s)/Pairing(s):** Kurt Hummel/Sam Evans (with other pairings thrown in along the way)

**Author Notes:** Chapter three, I'm on a serious roll. I love this. I seriously love you guys too, you've made writing this fic so exciting, I look forward to your comments every time.

SO. I'm making up for the loss of Mike/Tina with Kurt/Sam sex because really? It's about time, DAMN IT. AM I FORGIVEN? Unless it's too long or awkward or bad, then, y'know, that'd suck.

**Warning: **gore, violence, swearing, sex.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own. Maybe a good thing. There'd be gay sex every where. With Kurt. Everywhere. HIDE YO KIDS, HIDE YO WIFE, AND HIDE YOU HUSBAND- yes.

* * *

It was like seeing Mr. Shuester returned some justice to the world for those who were left in their small group. Sarah had been wary at first, of course, but upon seeing her older brother hug the other man, she soon found herself content in the former teacher's presence. When he knelt down and handed her a doughnut covered in delicious pink frosting and sprinkles, it sealed the deal.

The sun was starting to set and they'd already seen eight wanderers. The farther the sunk sank, the number of staggering wanderers started to appear. They moved the cars and centered them in front of the Dunkin Donuts' windows and doors as a blockade and shut themselves in for the night. Puck tried to open the tents and gave up in frustration as his broken wrist prevented him from doing much more than ripping open the tape. Rachel reconfigured his splint and sent him away. Finn took over while his friend went and sat with his sister who was currently latched to Quinn's pants while they quietly tried to figure out which juice she'd want from the dead freezer.

When a skinless face, bleeding with raw muscles stretching and teeth clicking violently appeared at the window just behind it, Quinn hid the girl in her chest as she began to wail. She kept her behind the counter, but it seemed the undead already knew. They had started to gather in small masses just beyond the cars, peering over, clawing at the hoods and windows and trying to reach past. A few sniffed at the air and Quinn gagged as she realized they could _smell_ them, smell their _flesh_.

"I've been staying in the break room in the back. There's no windows, just an emergency exit door," Eyes turned hurriedly to Mr. Shuester with worry and he put up his hands to reassure them; he knew what they were thinking, "I've already barred it shut. They're not getting in that way." Relief shown upon their faces, but it disappeared when there was a loud smash, and Kurt's passenger side window shattered. The alarm went off and Sarah began to scream.

"Where are the keys?" Sam shouted as Kurt began to feel around in his bag in the dark, searching blindly. Sam knelt beside him and turned the bag over. He shook it hard and typical Kurt-things fell out: moisturizer, cover up, hair gel, hair brush, mascara (so _that's_ how Kurt's eyelashes were so long), toothbrush, whitening toothpaste, and so on.

"Turn the damn thing off!" Quinn yelled as she and Puck tried to quell the crying child between them. Mercedes knelt beside them and began to search. The alarm was deafening and Kurt was sure his ears were bleeding when his hand closed over the familiar cool metal of the key. He immediately hit the alarm button. The lights went off, and the sound cut, leaving them in the dark again. They waited. Some of them prayed.

"Let's get to the break room," Mr. Shuester said after a few moments of silence. His face was so deathly white it seemed to glow in the shadows. His eyes were locked outside. Everyone's gaze followed, and everyone understood as they nodded.

"There's got to be hundreds out there," Mercedes whispered as they receded into the break room, chancing a look back out at the dark mass that was slowly gaining ground towards the store. Kurt reached out and held her hand, squeezing it tight. She tried to smile, but it didn't work so she just squeezed back.

* * *

Sam awoke in a cold sweat, panting. He'd had a dream, but he couldn't recall about what. He was amazed he'd even fallen asleep in the first place. Sitting up, he looked around. For a moment, he was unable to recognize where he was. When it hit him, he frowned. He was inside one of the tents that Puck had snatched. They'd set them up in the break room and had tried to gather what sleep they could through the sounds of calloused, filthy fingers scratching and banging on glass, and the hideous, gargling moaning.

Sam looked over at Finn and Rachel. They were fast asleep, Rachel nestled into Finn's back. Her arms were about his waist, squeezing him tight as if afraid that even in her sleep, that if she let go, he'd be gone. Mercedes was also fast asleep inside Kurt's sleeping bag that he'd brought, only the top of her head visible from the fluffy mass. Kurt, however, was absent. The last Sam had seen the countertenor, he was laying beside him in the tent. They'd kissed goodnight and Sam had remembered feeling like he was walking on air when Kurt's face was buried into his neck as he fell asleep.

Sam panicked and stood. His legs were rubbery and his knees popped as he clumsily undid the zipper and stepped outside of the tent. The tile floor was cold and hard as he made his way over to the other tent and peered in. Mr. Shuester was asleep sitting up, rifle in his lap. Puck looked almost identical on the opposite side of the tent. Sarah and Quinn lay side by side in between them. Panicking a little more, Sam slipped back out. Taking a gun from their bag that hung on the wall on a coat hook, he slowly slipped down the hall that lead back down to the main area. He crouched, getting down on his hands and knees and crept to the edge of the counter.

He couldn't see outside, it was too dark and Sam's heart sped up at the thought of those yellowed, red-rimmed eyes watching him in the shadows.

Slipping behind the counter, Sam edged his way along, "Kurt?" He whispered quietly. There was no answer. Not at first. There was only a shuffling. Sam froze. Oh god. Had one of _them_ gotten in? Sam immediately began to backtrack when a hand closed over his wrist, and he swung his gun around to at least try and knock the creature back on its ass and get out of there to wake up the others. He did hit it. But when it cried out, he immediately regretted it.

"... Kurt?"

"You _asshole_, what the hell was that for?" Kurt hissed at him.

"Dude, it's like... pitch black out here and I can't here a thing and then all of a sudden something's _grabbing_ me. What do you expect?" Sam retorted in a hushed voice. His eyes were starting to accommodate to the dark and he could make out Kurt's outline in the shadows. The other boy was rubbing his head where the gun had made contact.

"You alright, though?"

"I suppose I'll live. But I swear Evans, if you leave a bruise and I'm out of coverup, I will toss you to those hungry beasts out there without batting an eyelash," Kurt threatened and Sam grinned. He put down the gun and inched forward, cradling Kurt's face in his own. He pushed away the boy's hand and leaned in, kissing the tender area. Against his palms, he could feel Kurt's face heat up.

"Better?"

"Oh, much." Kurt snorted and pulled back. Sam scooted beside him, their backs to the counter.

"Why are you out here?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

"I'm serious Kurt." Sam said a little more sternly and Kurt went quiet. Sam squinted in the dark and he could see Kurt looking around him, back at the hallway that lead to the break room. Sam understood and he gently took Kurt's hand. The two of them practically crawled across the floor and crept in front of the counter. Sam got that eerie, being-watched feeling and he crawled a little faster. They found the bathrooms with surprising ease and Sam wondered if he should take the men's bathroom, but he supposed that really didn't matter anymore.

"There, no one can here us now." Sam said quietly as he tried the light switch. The light came on, flickering a dim, sickly gray. Sam blocked the crack of the door with toilet paper to keep the light from seeping out and getting the wanderers' attention, "Now, what's up?" Kurt's shoulders dropped and Sam could see the dark circles heavy beneath his eyes more clearly now than he ever could before.

"I honestly don't know. I can't sleep. I haven't... really slept since... dad. Dad and Carol." Kurt said slowly and Sam watched Kurt's lips part and he inhaled sharply. His eyes were watering, "And then when Brittany showed up, and Santana... I don't know Sam, I can't sleep anymore. I'm lucky if I get an hour. There's only so much cover up can actually _cover_ before all the wrinkles are too deep and the bags are too dark." Kurt looked into the bathroom mirror and touched his face.

Sam cocked his head, "I think you're beautiful like this."

* * *

If you'd told Sam Evans a year ago (even a few months ago, because to be fair, he didn't know Kurt a year ago) that he'd be _here_, face buried in Kurt Hummel's neck while the two of them had hard, desperate sex in an abandoned Dunkin Donuts bathroom somewhere on the outskirts of Ohio – he would have laughed. Actually, he might have _died_ laughing which, at this point in time, seemed like a rather heavenly way to go.

"_I think you're beautiful like this."_

Kurt had looked at him like a deer caught in headlights and Sam was honestly expecting some kind of sarcastic remark or unconvinced huff. He was definitely not expecting an armful of Kurt. And he was not expecting to be kissed and feel like he was never going to breathe again. Though, his cock sure appreciated the gesture.

Kurt's mouth met his, their lips crushed together, teeth clinking painfully. Hands tangled themselves into his shaggy, blonde hair. Sam was startled and unresponsive – for about ten seconds, because when Kurt's hips are undulating into his, he can't think of anything but _Kurt_ and is suddenly slamming him into the nearest wall. Though, to be fair, his lack of thought was most probably caused by ninety percent of his blood rushing to the wrong head, but Kurt's hands are suddenly on the drawstrings of his flannel pants and Sam can't even _begin_ to care anymore.

"Kurt," Sam gasped out the other boy's name between kisses and he groaned, lids flickering as the ties are undone and Kurt's hand is _down his pants, oh my god_. Sam bit Kurt's lip so hard, he could taste blood. Kurt groans into his mouth, hand fisting Sam's cock, pumping steadily along the length.

"_I think you're beautiful like this."_

It meant so much to here that. Kurt's been in love with Sam since he met him. It wasn't like Finn, even though others had said it was. Finn had been a hero to him. Hero-worship wasn't love. Sam was _Sam_ and that's all Kurt needed. He needed nothing else. As long as he had the other boy, he was content. Apparently, Sam's feelings were mutual. All he needed was Kurt.

And honestly, this tension has been building for months now and it's about fucking time. Sam pulled back for air and rested his forehead against Kurt's. He felt himself being turned around and pushed against the wall and before his lust-fogged mind can catch up, Kurt was on his knees and Sam's pants were around his ankles. Kurt looked hesitant and Sam was about to reassure him that he really didn't need to, but before it all came out in a mixture of garbled syllables and groans as the warm wetness engulfed his cock.

"_I think you're beautiful like this."_

Sam curled his fingers into the dark hair, head leaning against the wall with a groan. He didn't want to be too loud, but Christ, that was a little difficult. Actually, that was very difficult because he's sure that Kurt Hummel's either sucked enough cock to win a Tony Award, or he's just a natural at it and Sam really hope's its that latter because he's it'd be really, _really_ hot if he was the first one to deflower Kurt's mouth. He's pretty sure he is.

Kurt's doing this little thing with his tongue every time his head bobs up near the head of his swollen cock that makes Sam go weak in the knees. He can feel the warmth building in his belly, "Kurt, off," Sam quickly gasps out, but either Kurt can't hear him or chooses not to listen, but either way, Sam's hips can't keep still any longer and he's trying his best not to knock Kurt on the floor as he thrusts into his mouth. Kurt hums approvingly and it's all Sam needs before he's trying to ram his fist into his mouth to keep quiet as he's spilling into that hot mouth. It swallows around him and draws out his climax to a shuddering arch.

The next thing he knows, Sam's on the floor, panting and flushed with a red-faced and swollen-lipped Kurt in front of him. They lock eyes. Neither of them say nothing and Sam practically tackles the other boy to the floor with a kiss. Kurt groans as Sam's weight climbs atop of him and Sam's working to get his pants off while simultaneously shoving his hands up the other boy's shirt, as if unsure of where he wants to put his hands first.

"_I think you're beautiful like this."_

Kurt's leggins come off like they were slicked with butter and Sam tosses them carelessly. He hears Kurt huff in disapproval, but Sam's kissing his neck and sucking marks into it and all he can do then is moan. Sam's sure he's never heard sexier sounds than what Kurt's making at that moment as he gets a hand around the younger boy's cock, stroking firmly as he's sucking on the fingers of his other. He paused momentarily when he catches Kurt's eyes who are watching him intently.

"We don't have to–"

"God, shut. _Up_. Sam," Kurt laughed and crushed their lips together firmly, arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders. The strong, lithe legs wrap around his waist and Sam's eyes nearly roll up into his head as they're grinding together. Kurt's hands are up his shirt and resting flat on his shoulder blades, but as Sam's fingers get ever deeper, they start to fist his shirt and claw in through the fabric, practically tearing it. Sam practically comes again.

Kurt's nose in scrunched up and his lips are a compressed line. He's breathing heavy as Sam maneuvers his fingers in an attempt to stretch the other boy. He's getting a little nervous because those heavenly sounds are disappearing and Kurt keeps whimpering. The countertenor's body is going still when he gets a third finger in and for a moment, they both share a thought of how awful it would be to have whatever wanderers had stuck around break in on them.

Thank god that didn't happen.

Kurt's slowly, but surely starting to rock back against the warm fingers within him and Sam's feeling a little more confident when he can see a blushing smile brighten up his face. Even the gloomy light can wash out Kurt's face. Sam's shaking with need as he withdraws his finger and Kurt makes this _noise_, somewhere between a whine and a whimper that nearly makes him pass out.

"_I think you're beautiful like this."_

He's looking for a condom he knows isn't there and Kurt's whispering how he wants him hot and bare and it's the end of the world so _who really fucking cares_. Sam feels like he doesn't, but Kurt's begging and he can't care. He tried to, but Kurt's whispering things in his ear which should be illegal, but technically, anything is legal now, so guess there was no point in that.

They're kissing again when Sam's pushing in and Kurt's making those sad, whimpering noises again into his mouth. Sam's hands braced themselves on either side of Kurt's head. Kurt's still clinging to him with nails that are much sharper than he'd anticipated. He waits even though he just wants to keep moving and he can tell when Kurt's ready because he's kissing his neck and panting for more.

"_I think you're beautiful like this."_

It's fast-paced, and desperate and Sam buries his face into Kurt's neck, biting down on the slope of his shoulder, breathing hard. Kurt's hands are sliding over his slippery, sweat-teased skin, and his shirt's clinging to his body and god he's so _tight_. He doesn't know what's happening when Kurt goes tense around him and is moaning louder than before, but Kurt does, and Sam's thrusting in on that sweet bundle of nerves he'd only ever managed to find with his fingers and god, does that feel good.

"Oh my god, _Sam–_" His name is falling from Kurt's lips in listless syllables and it only makes Sam move faster, thrust harder and he's pretty sure they're leaving bruises, but Kurt seems to like that. Sam can hear Kurt begging as Sam tried to keep a rhythm to his thrust, but it's erratic now and he reaches a hand between them, wrapping a hand around Kurt's swollen member. It takes one stroke, two strokes, three – and Kurt's screaming into his neck. He's pretty sure his nails are digging up blood.

Kurt clenches down so tight, Sam can't move and he doesn't need to because he's coming too, groaning gruffly through gritted teeth. They're stiff and shaking and Sam's arms can't hold him as his hips twitch into the other, and Kurt's whimpering beneath him. When he finally collapses, they're both gasping for breath and Sam's limbs have gone as limp as noodles. Kurt's face is glimmering with sweat, and his cheeks are pink. His hair's a mess. Sam pushed hair off his forehead, grinning. Kurt's small hands framed his face and they kiss again.

"_I think you're beautiful like this."_

* * *

They don't say anything, but they don't have to as they slowly climb off each other a few minutes later and redress themselves and clean up. Kurt's limping when they turn off the lights and Sam sweeps him up into his arms before the other can protest. They wait by the bathroom doors, hidden from the windows until they can see better. There's more light outside and Sam guesses it's around five in the morning. There's no more wanderers at the windows which brings him comfort as they slowly slip back to the tents.

"Think you'll be able to sleep now?" Sam asks quietly with a chuckle in his voice as they lay back down within the tent and Kurt smirks.

"I think you've tired me out cowboy," Kurt laughs and Sam grins, "I don't see how I can't."

* * *

_Reviews are love._


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: **All Those Who Wander Are Lost 4/?

**Rating:** R

**Character(s)/Pairing(s):** Kurt Hummel/Sam Evans (with other pairings thrown in along the way)

**Author Notes:** CHAPTER FOURRR. Sorry that took a few days, I work all day on weekends at Wally World and we were busy and homework is a bitch. BUT. I stayed up late to get this to you. I feel like this chapter is more of a filler - of about six pages, so a _long_ filler. _

So, feel free to let me know it bored you in anyway, and I'll spice up the coming chapter in what ways I can as I move the plot along. : D

**Warning:** gore, violence, swearing. BEWARE OF WALMART.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own. Maybe a good thing. There'd be gay sex every where. With Kurt. Everywhere.

* * *

They're leaving the state of Ohio, and Sam's actually awake enough this time to see Finn slam on the brakes in front of him. He glides to an easy, abrupt stop and suddenly Mercedes is jumping out of Finn's car, waving her phone at them. Her cheeks are wet, and it takes a moment for Kurt to understand that she's crying.

"My parents! My parents Kurt, they're alive!" It'd only been three weeks since the disease had forced them from their homes, and while local power lines had gone out, they'd found that there were cellular towers still active. They weren't sure for how long, but Mercedes had kept her phone with her at all times. She would turn it on once every day to check her messages. So far, there had been none.

Until now.

Kurt jumped from the car, and ran to her in disbelief. He grabs it from her, reading it over frantically: _we're okay honey. we're in georgia right now. we're headed to massachusetts to see aunt grace because she says Boston's safe. please come if you get this._

Kurt couldn't believe his eyes. It was from a number he didn't recognize and he figured they must have found a cell phone somewhere along their travels. So that meant, in Florida and Georgia at least, that it was not safe. It had spread so far in such little time. But Massachusetts was safe. Supposedly.

"Looks like we're headed to Boston," Mr. Shuester grinned.

* * *

The next time they stop, they're in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. They'd been traveling for three days straight now, and the gas was so low, they'd had to force themselves to stop. They received no further messages after the first from Mercedes parents and it worried Kurt a little, but he said nothing. They stop in a little market, and it's a little Asian restaurant by the name of Ah Gin Wong's. It still smells of teriyaki and spices and they're all pleasantly surprised to see the freezer in the back still full, and cold. Or well, not freezing, but definitely chilly.

They blockade the entrance with their cars again and set up camp in the back store rooms with the tents again. The stoves are gas, and they managed to light up and properly fry a decent meal of egg rolls, teriyaki sticks, and orange chicken. They eat like they haven't in months and Sam and Kurt share the same bond of finally just not caring about what their eating and just _eating_.

They sleep on full stomachs, and outside, it's silent for the first time in weeks.

Until around six the next morning. Kurt and Sarah get sick. Violently sick. Sam awakes first when he feels the lack of space next to him and then he heard retching. He dashed out, legs still weak and found Kurt vomiting in the nearest trashcan. A few moments later, he hears Puck swearing and he's carrying his sister out of the tent and the girl's shaking like a leaf and Puck's shirt is covered in the girl's recent stomach contents that forcibly come back up.

"It was the food. _Fuck_, it had to be the food," Puck practically snarls as Quinn squeezes his shoulder, "Food poisoning. That's what it is when you eat bad food, right?" Mr. Shuester nods as he returns with kitchen towels he's soaked with bottles of water that had been in the back of the store. They're lukewarm, but it would have to do.

"We still need to keep going," Finn urges as he looks worriedly over Sam's shoulder. Kurt's in one tent and Sarah's in the other. The girl is sobbing her eyes out between hiccups and bubbling bouts of vomit. Kurt's just shaking and sweating and as Sam dabs his forehead, he moans, eyes rolling up and squeezing shut. He's pale and looks as cold as snow, but his skin's burning.

"You're crazy. They're in no condition to be going anywhere white boy," Mercedes snaps.

"But Finn's right. If we stay here, we could attract attention of... god knows what. And you might not get to see your parents if that happens," Rachel adds and Mercedes goes quiet. Sam says nothing because he understands. He doesn't want to move Kurt, but they actually really need to _move_.

"They need help," Sam says briefly and he can feel eyes turn towards him, "My little brothers had food poisoning once. We had to take them to the hospital."

"If you haven't noticed, I'd say most patients are eating their doctors than their pills, so it's a bit limited here." Puck says, but it's halfhearted as he tends to his little sister. When she whines, he keeps pulling away, and Quinn's doing her best to moderate between the two of them.

"Yeah, but they can't really give you any meds because the body's doing its own thing to get rid of it. It's when it persists that you have to go to the doctor again," Sam says as he dabs Kurt's forehead and Kurt looks like he's going to be sick again, so he pushes the trash bin closer and he's glad he does because Kurt's retching about ten seconds later, "Logan didn't have to go back, but Lucas did."

"So Lucas had to get medicine?"

"They don't give you anything, unless it's really bad and then sometimes its an IV, but they kept him overnight for a few days and had him on a few anti-vomiting meds and fever reducers, but that was it."

"How does it get better then?"

"Water. Lots and _lots_ of water. And we need to make sure they eat. They're not going to want to, but they need to. Bland stuff, like crackers and potatoes and plain yogurt." Sam rubs Kurt's back as the other boy's shaking and gripping the trash bin like it's his only life line, "But mostly water. This should only last three or so days."

"Only three?"

"About three."

"Alright Einstein."

Mr. Shuester and Puck and Rachel go out. They start the car and everyone listens to the engine slowly rumble into nothing, and they're quiet about their fears. They come back about an hour later. Puck has blood all over his shirt and Mr. Shuester looks vaguely disturbed as he takes the bat to the sink and begins washing the brain matter off. In his daze, Kurt watches as Rachel enters behind Puck with a half case of water. Some of the bottles are half full, but Kurt's not looking at the bottle. Rachel's got a bag snug under her arm with some sort of box-shaped object inside of it.

He's too tired to make guesses as to what it is before he falls asleep again.

* * *

So they leave. Sarah throws a fit fiercely enough to make herself throw up and she passes out with fever a few minutes into the ride. Kurt on the other hand, doesn't say anything. Actually, he hasn't said anything to anyone, and that includes Sam which intensely worries and relieves him at the same time. Rachel goes with them, opting to help take care of Kurt, as does Mr. Shuester, and the others go with Puck to help with his shrieking sister, Finn at the wheel once again.

"Kurt?" Rachel whispered and Kurt looked blearily over at her. Her face is pinched tight with concern but somehow, Kurt can already tell it's not about him. He doesn't respond, just meeting her eyes. From the front seat, Sam and Mr. Shuester can't hear her; her voice is too low.

She's shuffling beside him and Kurt closes his eyes again. He's vomited three times in the last hour and he's not really sure how long they've been traveling, only that his head hurts and he can't stop shaking. His stomach clenches painfully and he chokes on a sob, turning it into a strangled cough. Sam's eyes fly to the rear view mirror and back again once he's assured that Kurt's okay. Rachel's shuffling has come to a stop and she's holding that box object he'd seen in the bag earlier.

It's a pregnancy test kit.

"Oh, Rachel." Kurt heaves out as quietly as he can. It's hard to speak, so whispering puts an extra strain on him just to get the sound out. Rachel's eyes are glimmering with tears.

"I knew something was wrong when I... I'm a week and a half late. I was on birth control, and it usually comes every first Tuesday of the month between four and five and–"

"_Rachel_." Kurt really doesn't need to have a female anatomy lesson in the middle of his misery, and now, shock. She just nods, and bites her lip. For a moment, there is silence between them and the only noise is the hum of the tires and the small beeping that the car makes when it signals that its low on gas. They'll have to stop again soon.

"But it didn't come. And it always come. And I haven't felt sick, or had food urges, or anything, but... Kurt, I knew something was wrong and I–"

"You're pregnant." Kurt finishes for her. She nods slowly. She pulls out the three from the box. All three are positive. Kurt reaches up for them weakly and stares at them intently. He'd been seeing double after some intense stomach cramps, and he just wants to make sure he's not seeing it now. But there they are, plain as day. Rachel's crying now, but it's quiet and her face is turned towards the back window. Kurt put the tests down and grabbed her wrist, holding it tight. She turned back, rubbing at her eyes.

"Kurt, I'm so sorry–"

"It's not exactly like condoms are falling out of the sky and pills are growing on trees, Rachel," Kurt manages to get out and she's still looking like a kicked puppy. He squeezed her wrist tighter and pulled her in. He doesn't think being violently ill and hugging someone is a very good idea, but he knows Rachel needs it and he hopes there's someone to hug Finn too when she tells him. Which he knows will be soon because Rachel's honorable like that, and won't hide it, not like Quinn had.

Rachel's sobbing out loud now and Mr. Shuester and Sam are watching intently and nervously and Kurt waved them off.

"Besides, we need a new generation to fight off these undead fuckers, someone needed to get a head start and of course it would be you," Kurt swears and Rachel snorts amidst her tears against his chest, "It's gonna be okay Rachel." He hopes he can keep that promise; none of them know how to birth a kid, and there's a possibility she might not even make it that far. Or any of them for that matter.

* * *

Kurt and Sarah slowly get better. Sarah gets better faster as Kurt gives most of his water to her, but by the end of the week, they're faring much better. Kurt stays with Rachel mostly and this worries both Sam and Kurt because even if Rachel sniffles, Kurt's all over her. Sam is surprised and Finn's jealous. Sort of. In that hey-that's-my-girlfriend-I'll-take-care-of-her way. If that was possible.

They find a truck with six cans of full gas in the back of the bed. They fight off a woman and two young children wanderers who are making a meal out of what can only be her husband, and the kids' father. They conserve most of it, and run on what they have and it gets them to a Super Walmart outside of Pennsylvania. They decide to ransack what they can before moving on.

It's front doors are locked, and the windows are spray painted with warning. No one's really sure why as they break the windows and head inside. Kurt's going through tacky Halloween sweaters when it dawns on him. Actually, it jumps on him. Literally. In one second, he's flicking through "I kissed a _ghoul_ and I liked it shirts" and then he's got one of _them_ on top of him. His scream is piercing and he's got a shirt around its head that came off the hanger when he went down. Kurt could see the outline of its face through the fabric, and it's practically trying to gnaw its way through the shirt. It's hands are clawing at his body, as if trying to rip flesh free with its brute force. Its strength is formidable and god, it smells _horrible_.

And then it's gone.

A solid thud hits the wanderer and it rolls away and a figure steps over him to take care of it. Kurt scrabbled to his feet and looked around. Sam and Finn are coming to him, but Kurt doesn't see them, he only sees behind them.

"Oh my god."

It's like his scream brought them out from the pits of hell. They're crawling out of from under shelves and between clothing racks and behind wall ornaments. They stagger in clans of ripped and torn, gruesome flesh and moaning, choked sounds. Some of them are running. Shelves and their contents are being knocked down and Sam narrowly misses an armless woman by inches and practically knocks Finn over in the process.

They're sliding out of nooks and crannies Kurt wouldn't have even thought to look and there must be at least fifty now. He watched, horrified, as a young man, obviously not one of them and had been looking for provisions, suddenly went down. Kurt squashes the urge to go help him as his screams echo through the air and they're met with the sickly, wet sound of his intestines being torn out. Kurt vomits all over the floor in front of him.

"Out, get out!" Finn shouted and Kurt's being pushed by the hands of his savior before Sam reaches him and they're all running from the building. The warning and locked doors suddenly make sense now as they burst from the building and hurry to the cars. Kurt sees the red jeep he didn't see before, and it's pretty banged up and there's blood across it, but he knows that jeep. The hands of his savior are gone and he sees the form running from him. There's two more following. Kurt would recognize the uniform anywhere. He hadn't before, and he didn't think Blaine had recognized him, but he certainly did now.

"Blaine!" He shouts across the parking lot. It's as if time freezes. The figures stop and turn towards them. Sam's pretty sure the _worst_ person they could run into on this barren terrain is Blaine. And they do, just now. They run into Blaine, Wes, and David. Kurt starts at a walk towards them, and it slowly becomes a jog, before he's suddenly running across the parking lot. Blaine meets him halfway and they meet with equal enough force to keep themselves upright.

"Oh my god Kurt, it's _you_–" Blaine starts, but there's a crash of glass and the wanderers are climbing through the windows, broken glass crunching into their palms and digging into their bodies as they attempt to crawl through. Kurt goes with Blaine and Sam drives Kurt's Navigator away from the scene with green eyes.

* * *

"Finn?" Rachel says slowly. Finn's setting up the tents. They're crossing through Pennsylvania and there's a forest for miles out here. After a scoping out of the surrounding areas, they deemed it safe and set up camp in the trees. They hid the cars nearby and covered them with leaves and branches in case a passerby was looking for a joy ride, or to take it for themselves.

Sarah's asleep and it's much quieter now since. Actually, everyone's very quiet. Except for Blaine and Kurt. They'd been talking animatedly since they'd gotten to the camp. Wes and David chime in every now and then, but their sarcastic remarks aren't as playful as they used to be; there's an emptiness to them. Sam's sitting moodily across the fire pit, glaring at them from time to time.

"Yeah?" Finn looks up at his girlfriend. He can see the terror in her face and he stops what he's doing, "What's wrong?" She shakes her head for a moment, and then reaches into her bag. The plastic crinkles and her hand freezes over the tests.

"You have to promise to not be mad." Finn cocked his head and he can see Rachel trembling and he doesn't understand. And he also doesn't understand how Kurt got to Rachel's side so fast. Hadn't he just been talking to Blaine, like, two seconds ago?

"I won't." Finn nods, and Rachel lets out a shaky breath. Kurt places a hand on her shoulder and they share a brief smile before Rachel asks for Finn to extend his hand out. Finn does as he's told and Rachel places her fist into his hand. For a moment, she keeps it clenched before Kurt's forcing her to open her fingers and pulls it back. Finn's not really sure what he's staring at, but when Rachel speaks, it all makes sense and he can suddenly remember the same little devices being shown to him by Quinn.

"Finn, I'm pregnant." It echoes and its at that moment that everyone realizes how quiet it has gotten.

"How...?"

"Hudson, I really hope you're not that stupid." Puck mutters from across the fire and Rachel's fidgeting where she stands, waiting expectantly. Finn doesn't really know what to say, or think for that matter and he slowly turns and walks away, pregnancy tests in hand. Rachel bursts into tears and runs off in the opposite direction. Kurt immediately hurried after her. Sam's eyes are still following him.

Quinn watches the whole seen with some guilt and stands. Puck stares at her with a cocked brow and watches her walk away, following Finn into the trees. She finds him sitting by the edge of the pond they were camped by. Dusting her pants, she sits down next to him. They say nothing to each other for a long while. It's actually quiet beautiful. It's cold, and the pond is thinly veiled with ice, and the moon is making it twinkle a deep silver at them. It's at least an hour of silence that goes between them. They can hear soft voices carrying to them through the trees, but its intelligible. And then Quinn speaks.

"You need to go to her."

"Yeah."

"Now."

"Yeah." But neither of them move, and then Finn looked over at Quinn, brow furrowed. He looks confused, as if suddenly realizing that out of all the people to follow him and come talk to him, it's Quinn. She smiles weakly and shrugs. Finn looks back out over the water.

"What if I can't protect her? Or the baby?" He says softly. Quinn reached out and hesitantly touched his shoulder. Finn looked down at it before looking away again. She can't say that he can, because honestly, she doesn't know that, not in a world like this.

"You can do your best." She offers and it seems to help. Finn says nothing, though and Quinn takes away her hand.

"Finn?"

"Yeah?"

"She needs you more than ever now."

"I know."

"Go to her."

"Yeah." This time, Finn stands and goes back. Kurt and Rachel are seated together near Blaine. Wes and David had gone back to the jeep and Finn can see they're asleep in the back seat, feet propped against the windows. Finn sees Sam and Sam's face is no longer angry, but almost defeated. Finn paused momentarily, and then circled back to Sam and sat down next to him. Sam glanced over at him wordlessly. Finn wondered, as he watched Quinn resurface from the trees and sit down next to Puck, if this was how he was for Quinn.

"Hey."

"Hi." Sam replies bluntly, and Finn can't think of anything to say. So he tells him what Quinn told him.

"Go to him." Sam looks over at him sharply, but Finn's already getting up and going to Rachel. Sam watches as Kurt gets up and shifts aside to allow room, and Finn sits down next to Rachel. He can't tell what he's saying, but he's holding her hands, and slowly, a smile is breaking out on her face. Kurt's smiling as well. Sam smiled too; it was contagious. He sees Blaine move and sit down beside Kurt, and his smile fades. It was time for bed now.

He doesn't miss Finn's disappointed glance.

* * *

Sam's almost asleep when he hears rustling. He bolts upright because to be fair, you can't be too careful about any rustling of _anything_ anymore. He's relieved when he sees its Kurt. His form is almost black against the orange glow of the fire.

"What are you doing?" Sam whispered and Kurt looked up at him, eyebrow raised.

"Me. You. Sleep." Kurt says and Sam scowls.

"Aren't you staying with Blaine?" Kurt pauses, midway inside of the sleeping bag. The realization dawns on him about what Sam's implying and Kurt slaps him hard upside the head. Sam yelped and Kurt kissed him to hush him, rolling his eyes and worked the rest of himself into the sleeping bag. He reached up and drug Sam down with him, pulling him in close and pulled the sleeping bag over them. He kissed him again and cupped his face. Sam smiled. And then Kurt shook his head, rolling his eyes before rolling over and Sam hugged him from behind.

"Please Sam. Don't be stupid."

* * *

_Reviews are love._


	5. Chapter 5

**Title: **All Those Who Wander Are Lost 5/?

**Rating:** R

**Character(s)/Pairing(s):** Kurt Hummel/Sam Evans (with other pairings thrown in along the way)

**Author Notes:** On a serious writing binge people. I'm addicted to writing it like crack and since I haven't had much homework since the semester at Anna Maria College is closing, I have more time to write. : D WINSOME.

**Warning:** gore, violence, swearing, sex (sort of).

**Disclaimer:** I don't own. Maybe a good thing. There'd be gay sex every where. With Kurt. Everywhere.

* * *

The next few days as they travel are filled with sunshine and they enjoy it to what extent they can. The sunlight is warm, but the air is cold. It was near September when they'd first left Lima, Ohio. It had to be the end of October, or at least November by now. Sam had heard rumors about hellish Massachusetts weather and how it could change at any moment and he wondered if they should be looking for winter coverup as their provisions are little.

Trenton, Pennsylvania is very beautiful as they're heading across state lines. Midway through the city, Puck pointed out a police station.

"There could be ammo in there. And pepper spray and batons." Puck says when he stops them all. They're all surveying the building cautiously. There's no movement, but since the incident at Walmart, no one can be too sure now.

"Or wanderers in blue." Quinn adds with some disdain, glaring at the building. She's about halfway back into Sam's car when Puck speaks up again.

"Police stations usually have their own propane lines so that they don't go out with cities in black outs," Puck adds as he watches the others pause like Quinn did; he can see they're curious about what it means, but wary about standing outside for too long. Puck hiked his rifle over his shoulder and smirked, "It usually means showers. _Hot water showers_." It's all he needs to say to convince them.

Puck turns out to be right, and no one asks why – the kid stole an ATM from a monitored department store, obviously he knew a little bit about the cops before he'd taken action. At least, Kurt hoped so. They're all trying not to run as they find the back locker rooms. There's one for men, and one for women and they all separate. The girls get to the shower's first, and Quinn's hand locks around the hot water knob and twist. The water's cold as she runs her hand underneath it and for only a second, she's disappointed – before she can feel it warming on her skin the longer it runs.

She squeals. Next door they can hear shouts of approval from the boys as the water lines make a loud, chugging sound as it comes through.

Clothes are torn off; skirts, pants, shirts, underwear, bras, boxers, all oily and dirty, mussed with blood and caked with filth and brain matter.

"Oh my goooodddd," Finn practically moaned as he dunked his head under the spray. He let the hot water run over his skin and he can feel weeks worth of oil and gunk being washed from his skin. Puck who'd disappeared through the maze of lockers returns with a broken locker door he'd knocked off with his bat and several containers of shampoo and conditioners. He heads to the girls' room and knocks. A naked, wet arm thrusts out, and he recognizes it as Quinn's and he purrs mockingly. She slaps him, and takes the cleaning supplies with a laugh before the door shuts again.

Kurt had taken a stall with Sam who was rubbing soap onto his shoulders, fingers kneading deeply. He sighed softly, foaming up his hair and he's glad for the dividers and curtains because it gives them the privacy they'd wanted, but hadn't gotten in some time. Sam rubbed soap down his arms and Kurt shivered, despite the warm heat. Down a few stalls, he can hear Wes and David having a water fight, and Blaine laughing. Somewhere beyond them, he can hear Puck and Finn talking and it's about Rachel but he doesn't catch all of it because he's honestly not focused on them right now. All he's focused on is _Sam_.

Sam turned him around and ran a soap-slicked hand over Kurt's chest. He eased over the tender, love-bit neck before running both his hands into Kurt's hair and gently washing it free. He dolloped some conditioner into his palms and began threading them back through the other boy's hair and leveled his head upwards, kissing him. Kurt smiled against his mouth and was still smiling when he pulled back. They exchanged places and Kurt realized that if he and Finn had ever dated, that he would have needed a stepping stool to do his hair. He's about an inch or two shorter than Sam, and it's much easier to reach and clean his hair.

Sam takes his hand as he's running his nails gently into his scalp for a deep cleansing and kisses the inside of his palm – and immediately pulls a face, "Soap tastes gross." He scowled, running his tongue under spray. Kurt laughed and pushed his head under, letting the foam collect at their feet.

They're kissing again, and it's a little more heavier now as Sam's backed Kurt into the tile wall. Kurt's hands are threading through his wet hair, and he makes a mental note to trim it before it gets too long and impossible to manage. Sam's thumbs ran over the hardened nubs of his nipples and Kurt gasped into his mouth, shooting up on his toes. The steam surrounded them and their bodies are pressed slick and wetly together. Sam's mouth moves from his own and down Kurt's neck.

His lips were warm and plush and Kurt's toes curled against the tile of the soapy floor as Sam's mouth is sucking new bruises into his neck. Normally, he wouldn't even _think_ about letting anyone do such a thing, but he has to admit, it feels good, and when he looks at them afterward, he thinks they look just as good as they feel. Of course, he wouldn't tell anyone that. Kurt's hands ran over Sam's back, gasping sharply repeatedly the closer Sam's body seems to mold to his own, and he can feel the blonde's erection on his thigh and –

"Hey Kurt, Puck found some razors and – oh." The curtains go back and Blaine stands dumbfounded with a towel around his waist and a razor in hand as he surveys the scene. It doesn't break apart like he expected it to, but they both turn to him, a little surprised. Sam waited for Kurt to slink out of his embrace and go to Blaine hurriedly and try and explain with a reason that didn't need to be explained in the first place, but Kurt doesn't go anywhere.

"Razors?" Kurt perks instead and he's touching Sam's face, feeling the stubble with the tips of his fingers, "You need a shave." Sam rolled his eyes and turned to Blaine. Blaine's face turns about ten shades of red before settling on crimson and Sam gives him a compressed lip smile and a nod as he takes the razor. Blaine's still standing there when Sam closes the curtain again. Sam puts the razor aside. He can deal with the shaving later.

"Now, where were we?" Sam wriggled his eyebrows and Kurt laughed melodically, and it suddenly makes him ache to hear Kurt sing. He doesn't ask, only kisses him again – and Sam sucked in a sharp breath, eyes squeezing shut as Kurt's hand slinks its way between his legs.

"I think it was starting to get somewhere right around here."

* * *

Rachel stared at her naked form in the mirror. Her stomach had the tiniest, round hump on the lowest area of her abdomen. She touched it gently. It was firm. She tried to imagine herself nine months from now, stomach round and full – god, nine months? Where were they going to be in nine months? What was going to be happening to the world by then?

A towel slipped over her shoulder and she turned sharply. It was Quinn. The girl had her hair up in a towel, and another wrapped around her body. She smiled gently. Rachel smiled nervously back and accepted the towel gratefully and wrapped it around herself. She felt oddly cold despite the warm shower she had just taken.

* * *

They wash their clothes with soap in the sinks and find spare sweatpants and shirts in a supply closet next to the locker rooms. They're all warm and cozy and _clean_. They all laugh when Wes believes his skin is breaking out into an itchy rash and was now allergic to being clean after being so dirty for such a long time.

The break room has a fridge still stocked, but they avoid the meats and cheeses and settle for the breads and left over pastas and salads they can find. When they go to bed, they go to bed on full stomachs for the second time since the outbreak.

Rachel has the nightmare that night and it's filled with horrific, dead faces. There's nasty, dirty, infected hands all over her, _inside of her_ and she realizes too late that they're ripping the baby from her very body and she's screaming from pain she can't even really feel. She wakes everyone up as she's tossing about beside Finn. He holds her tight as she cries. She's crying so hard, he's afraid she can't breathe. It takes an hour and a tablespoon of cold medicine from one of the lockers in the locker room to knock her back out.

* * *

Mr. Shuester is the first to wake up. He's not sure why, but he has the oddest feeling. And it's not a good feeling either. The others are all asleep as he stands and takes his shotgun quietly from the nearby table. He slowly stalks from the room and closes the door behind him and creeps down the slim hallway to the main office. It's quiet there and the glass doors are clear and still chained shut from how they'd left them the night before. The cars are still outside.

But he still doesn't feel right and its making his stomach clench. Every hair on his body is standing on end, and he has the worst feeling that something bad is going to happen to them. Or to someone else. Something. He goes to the glass doors and looks out at the lightening landscape. It's clear. There's no wanderers outside. It's just... quiet. Maybe that was it. It was just too quiet. That had to be it.

Mr. Shuester drew back from the door and took a deep breath. He was being silly. The building was clear and shut down, there was nothing to worry about. _No one_ to be worried about, to put it better. Mr. Shuester turned back from the doors and he went to the coffee machine. The coffee is cold, but he pours himself a cup anyway and turns back to the window. The sun is a half circle in the distance above the trees and it would have been really pretty if it had just stayed quiet and desolate.

Unfortunately, it doesn't stay that way when he sees one. Then he sees two. Then three. Then six. Then ten. Then fourteen. Then twenty five. And he loses count after forty two. They move in a massive, slow pack towards the direction that he and the others had come in. It's the only thing fortunate and brings Mr. Shuester momentary relief in his panic as he realized they were heading in the opposite direction of their group. But he has a hard time focusing on just that as he watches the mass get bigger as they stumble and trudge along.

Some, as they pass the police station, raise their noses in the direction of the building. A few halt. Mr. Shuester's heart raced as he watched and he was suddenly regretting ever having taken the shower. They smell clean now. They smell of Dove soap and Dove shampoo and even their dirtied, blood-caked skin would mask their scents better than this at the moment. Most of them move on. A few of them stay halted. Only one stumbled towards the station.

He stares, horrified and immediately backtracks down the hall. He finds the kids waking and immediately shushes them as they begin to speak amongst themselves. He shows them, one by one, and one by one, none of them speak upon return. The curious wanderer had gotten to the door and was laying his face against the window. Mr. Shuester waited impatiently from the hallway, peering around the corner as he watched the wide, glassy eyeballs blink slowly and look around. The bloody finger tips leave marks as its face is squashed against the window, teeth scratching against it, as if attempting to bite through the glass.

He realizes with terror that it can smell them now as it begins to bang on the glass.

* * *

They gather the guns together and put them in a sack. They leave their clothes, still wet and drying and Kurt finds note paper in an empty office. He writes a brief letter and heads out into the main office. The one wanderer has now grown into about ten as they're all clapping and smacking the glass. It's cracking in the corners as Kurt slaps the paper on with a piece of tape. The message reads plain and simple: _NOT SAFE_.

They leave through the back entrance and Sam and Finn go get the cars. They have to move fast because the wanderers have learned how to run, and they're not far behind when they start up the cars and throw them in reverse and hightail them around the back of the building to pick up the others.

They're all piled in and ready to go – and Sam's car doesn't start. The engine coughs, and stops and Finn twists the key several times before he starts searching frantically for the problem as Rachel locks the doors. He finds the problem in no time: the gas reads empty. And there's wanderers coming in an almost single file motion around the edge of the building now.

"The gas is in Kurt's car," Puck deadpans from the backseat. Sarah's screaming again and Quinn's holding her tight.

"What do we do?" Quinn shouts above Sarah's yelling as there's more coming around the side of the building now. There's got to be at least twenty of them. Finn was gripping the steering wheel so tightly, his knuckles were going white as he stares in defeat between the mass coming towards them and Rachel. He reached over and grabbed her hand. One of the wanderers suddenly lurched itself on the hood. It was woman with most of her hair ripped out, teeth gnarled and broken and she claws and pounds at the hood with all her might as she stares them down. Rachel squeezed tight, and Finn swallowed. The mass is gathering around the car now, and Finn leaned over across the seat and kissed Rachel on the cheek. He couldn't protect her. He wished he could have. Rachel sees the defeat and feels it grow inside of her and she leans against him, holding his arm and closes her eyes.

From the backseat, Sarah had gone silent as the light from the sun is blotted out as the wanderers have gathered around the car, banging at the windows and shoving their mouths at the glass. Quinn took Puck's hand and Puck doesn't smile, just meets her eyes and holds it. He interlaces their fingers and holds Sarah close...

* * *

How they gave up so easily, no one really knows, but it infuriates the hell out of the rest of them as the gunshots go off. The woman from the hood goes down. She flops onto the car and then slowly falls off. In the opening, Finn can see Kurt with a gun. He looks impossibly angry, and behind him Blaine, Wes, David and Sam flourish, armed with their own weapons. Finn has a moment to ponder about how they couldn't possibly kill _all_ of the wanderers who were headed their way, but he doesn't argue as they start to lessen in numbers.

Wes has got a bat, and he's bringing it down on each target that gets near him as he continuously honks the horn to Blaine's jeep to get their attention. Sam's taking aim from the top of Kurt's navigator and David and Blaine have circled around to the opposite side of the car, keeping the rest of the wanderers at bay that are coming in from the opposite side of the building. The noise gets their attention and the car is soon free and Kurt's approaching with a gas can in his hand. Finn bolts from the car and he wants to tackle the other boy into a grateful hug – and instead, Kurt sets down the gas can and delivers a punch hard enough to knock Finn off his feet. Finn knew he had a good foot, but a right hook? He never would have guessed.

Kurt says nothing, taking aim at an idle wanderer as it approaches the car and shoots. It goes down in a slump, half of its head sprawling out onto the grass. Kurt opened the gas tank and begins to fuel it as the others are doing what they can to keep the invasion at bay. Capping the tank, Kurt heads back to his car and Finn slips into Sam's, hands shaking. He starts the car and as the engine roars to life, there's that horrible, awful, piercing scream that Finn's all too familiar with now that they've lost so many people.

It's Wes. Kurt had had enough protection from Mercedes and Mr. Shuester and Sam to save his ass, and Blaine and David had been working together, but Wes had been alone. And a bat was a good weapon if you maybe had one or two wanderers to deal with. But not five. Or six. Or in this case, about twelve. Wes had tried crawling into the car away from them when they became overwhelming. From the looks of it, he'd tried crawling through to the other side of the car – but they'd been waiting.

"_Wes_!" Blaine screamed. But it was too late. Wes had been drug from the car with the animalistic force of the undead by his ankles. He was thrown to the ground, and the feeding began. No one moved as they listened to his screams. It was obvious from the choking sobs that echoed from his dying form that he was still alive, that he could still fucking _feel everything_ as they partook to ripping open his chest and stomach and gorge themselves on his flesh.

"Wes! No, oh god, _Wes_!" Blaine shouts and David grabs him roughly as he tries to make a beeline for the group of wanderers that is growing bigger as more of them try to satisfy their hunger. He fights, pushing and shoving and David hits him hard on the back of the head with his gun. Blaine goes down and David struggles to carry him. Mr. Shuester darted from the Navigator to help and they sneak around the growing feeding and throw Blaine in the backseat. Wes' screaming has come to a stop. David's crying as soon as he gets into the car and Mr. Shuester tries not to shove David into the passenger seat, but he does because one of the wanderers is grabbing at his shirt and trying to sink its teeth into his neck. He slams the door repeatedly onto its head.

The engines all three cars roar to life seconds later, and they leave tire tracks in the dirt as they take off.

* * *

If anyone told you that Blaine woke up a few hours later, they'd be lying. Blaine never woke up as Blaine again. In fact, you could say he never woke up at all. He's completely listless, and blank and not even David's begging can make him bat an eyelash. He stares continuously at the one spot in front of him and his eyes go no where else.

They don't stop driving for another two days, not until they've completely crossed the state line and are well into New York territory. They stop at a motel on a desolate road. They check all rooms and bathrooms and closets and offices for hours on end. They find a few eviscerated corpses with torn flesh and gaping wounds with missing flesh in a few rooms and leave them be. They in stay in the right wing of the building.

Kurt goes to Blaine late that night after everyone's gone to sleep. He knows Blaine's not asleep and he's right. He finds Blaine alone in his room, sitting up on the end of the bed The moon is casting an eerie silver light into the room through the blinds in a pattern of lines across Blaine's body. Kurt slowly sits beside him.

"I'm so sorry, Blaine," Kurt starts. Blaine says nothing, and Kurt's not exactly expecting anything, but he feels his any of his confidence of coming in here starting to wither, "There was nothing you could have done." His hope that the statement is comforting is gone when Blaine snorts.

"I could have stayed near him, actually. I could have given him the gun. I could have watched him to make sure he didn't have more than he could have handled," Blaine doesn't look at him, just looks at the spot in front of him; his voice is numb, and cold, and it's nothing that Kurt's ever heard before, "So yeah Kurt, there was actually _a lot_ I could have done." Kurt doesn't know what to say, and any idea of what to say dissipates when Blaine shifts just enough to expose the gun in his hand that's holding between his legs.

"Blaine, no–"

"I lost my best friend Kurt." Blaine chokes out.

"I shot a best friend. Two of them. And I left one to die. And I'm still here and–"

"You have Sam," Blaine says quietly and Kurt's stunned to silence. After the incident in the shower, he'd forgotten that Blaine even knew about him and Sam in the first place, "My parents are gone. I had to shoot them. They _ate_ my little sister. I had to shoot her too," Kurt stared in horror at the other boy, "I had to kill my friends at the academy, Kurt. I was lucky to have David and – well, now I don't have Wes." Blaine lets out a raspy chuckle and throws up his hands in exasperation. For a moment, Kurt's sure he can see a spark in Blaine's eyes, and then it's gone. Kurt flinches from the gun as Blaine rests it to his temple as if to keep his head held up.

"But David's still here Blaine," Kurt tried to urge, but Blaine's eyes have gone back to being glassy and lost. Only this time, they're glimmering in the moonlight and Kurt can see the faint tracks of tears. He reached out and Blaine cringed from him.

"Please don't Blaine, please. I'm begging you." Kurt whispered urgently. There was another throaty chuckle and Blaine shook his head. Kurt grabbed his arm, yanking on it and Blaine moved much faster than he anticipated as he wrestled for the gun. The click is so loud, but nothing's louder than the bang – and suddenly, his shoulder's a white plume of agony that's making him see stars. He can feel the warmth of blood seeping through his fingers as he covered the freshly opened wound. He can feel the ground soaking beneath him and he realized that the bullet must have gone through.

Blaine's staring at him with wide eyes as he sits back down the bed. Kurt reaches out a feeble hand, shaking his head, "Not your fault, not your fault," He repeats like a mantra, but it doesn't seem to have his desired effect as he watches the barrel go to Blaine's head. The click of the trigger is loud, but again, nothing's louder than the bang. Blaine's form stills, hovering on the edge of the bed – before it slumps forward and drops to the floor with a loud thud.

Kurt's screams are the loudest of all.

* * *

_Reviews are love._


	6. Chapter 6

**Title: **All Those Who Wander Are Lost 6/?

**Rating:** R

**Character(s)/Pairing(s):** Kurt Hummel/Sam Evans (with other pairings thrown in along the way)

**Author Notes:** Sorry about the delay. I had a bad, weird break up so I was out of the loop for a bit. I'm still not sure how many parts are left in the story, so I can't put in a number for the (?), but I'd guess only four or so. OGAD. IT MAKES ME SAD TO THINK ABOUT. THIS STORY IS MY BABY. 3

**Warning:** gore, violence, swearing.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own. Maybe a good thing. There'd be gay sex every where. With Kurt. Everywhere.

**Credit to The Walking Dead: **"We don't kill the living."

* * *

Kurt's screams could have woken the dead. What a horrible innuendo. And a dangerous one, really. It could actually become true. But it was the gunshots that woke everyone, not the screaming.

In one room, Sarah starts to scream in response. Quinn bolts upright and Puck shoves his head under a pillow, mumbling incoherently about killing Sam in the morning and that why can't the girls he's been with scream that loud? In the next, Mr. Shuester's still awake and he's trying to bandage his arm with what first aid they have left. In the room next to his, Rachel wakes screaming with her dream and screaming with Kurt. Finn's rolling out of bed and onto the floor and Mercedes can't figure out which way is up or down as she tries to get out the bed. In the final room, David is lurching off the mattress and Sam's confused and worried and he's got a foot tangled in the sheets as he throws himself off the bed.

Mr. Shuester's the first in the room, his flash light swinging. The first object the light lands on is Blaine. Or well, what's left of Blaine from the nose up. Mr. Shuester felt himself gag at the bloody, pulpy mess and he swings the flashlight to Kurt. The boy's as white as a sheet on the floor, clutching his shoulder with one hand and reaching for Blaine with the other. There's blood seeping through his fingers. It's bright red on his skin, but his shirt is a deep maroon.

"Kurt... Kurt!" Mr. Shuester hurried forward and knelt beside the other boy. Kurt was crying, tears streaming down his face. He was pale, eyes wide with terror that Mr. Shuester hadn't seen since the days before Kurt transferred to Dalton before the disease broke out, "Hey, hey, easy, you're okay Kurt, you're okay."

"What happened?" Finn and Sam arrived at the doorway with flashlights of their own, both speaking in unison. Sam felt his blood go cold as his gaze settled on Kurt's shaking, bleeding form. Finn's frozen in the doorway as he rushes forward, kneeling opposite of Mr. Shuester. Rachel must have heard, because she's suddenly pushing past Finn with an entire sheet in hand. She's got a water bottle as well and Sam could kiss her, but he really just wants to kiss Kurt. Kurt's got a fist in Sam's shirt and his breathing keeps getting faster and faster.

"Sam, get the sheet under him," Mr. Shuester hands him the sheet and Sam rips it in half, placing one under the weight of Kurt's wounded shoulder. Mr. Shuester is compressing the other atop the entry of the wound. Kurt's jerking slightly under the pressure and he sobs as he can feel the pain increasing with each beat of his heart. It throbs.

"We've gotta stem the blood flow." Rachel kneels beside Kurt's head and as Sam pulls back the sheets, he feels like he's going to be sick as he can see the blood is already soaking through. Rachel pours water over the wound and Kurt screams.

"Jesus, it's not _stopping_," Sam chokes out as the realization that Kurt could very well die right here, right now is suddenly hitting him, "What do we do? What do we do?" He repeats and Kurt's fist is still twisting in his shirt, turning it into a stretched v-neck. Mr. Shuester grit his teeth in frustration. What _did_ they do? None of them were trained medical personnel, and the most they know is that they have to stop the bleeding or Kurt will die.

But he can't say that, because right now, everyone's in the room and they're all staring at him.

"Uh... get me... get me the gauze strips from the kit. All of them. Bring me the whole kit. Bring me everything." Mr. Shuester urges. He turns and watches Finn stumble out of the room. Sam leans over Kurt as he presses down again and he can feel the slick warmth of blood beneath his fingers. Kurt's eyes narrow, jaw setting and he cries out through gritted teeth. Sam felt guilt overwhelm him.

"It's gonna be okay Kurt. You're gonna be alright," Sam reassured softly and Kurt's eyes aren't leaving his and he's still crying, "Shhh, shhh Kurt, it's okay, it's _okay_–"

"It hurts." Kurt struggles to get out and his voice is soft and throaty and it makes Sam wince as he can feel more blood soak the sheet, as if the strain causes it to bleed out further. God, there was so much of it.

"Don't talk Kurt. Please don't." Sam urges and Kurt obeys and says nothing further. The room is starting to get fuzzy as he's laying on the floor. Sam's face is starting to blur together, and his hair seems to blend into his face. The lack of light isn't helping either, and Sam's face is starting to look more like some sort of deformed, melting nightmare. It's also getting harder to breathe. He feels like he can't get any air in and he's not sure if it's because he's scared, or that the pain is just so overwhelming, his body's forgotten how.

"Stay with us Kurt, stay with us." Mr. Shuester urges as he grabs the kit from Finn. He tears open the gauze with his teeth and pulls back the sheets. It's flow is slower now as he dumps water over it again to clear the wound. It needs to be sewn, but there's not much they can do about that now, "C'mon Kurt, be strong."

To Kurt, the words sound like the old Charlie Brown cartoon teachers, "wah whah, whah whah whah, whah whah", or something of the like. Sam's face is getting worse. It's a mesh of colors, and Kurt keeps blinking to try and clear it, but it's not working and it's starting to get frustrating. He tries to sit up, tries to clear his head which slowly feels like it's being stuffed up with cotton and his hearing his fading into a solid, monotonous ringing. People are holding him down, but he can't tell who because the edges of his vision are going dark and what's left of what he sees is indescribable.

"Kurt... Kurt... Kurt..."

He's pretty sure he can hear Sam calling his name before it all disappears.

* * *

When he wakes up, it's white. It's extremely white. Kurt can see the light beneath his lids before he opens them and as his brain slowly chugs to catch up with the world, it realizes that opening his eyes is a bad idea. But it's too late, and he has, and he can't see a thing because it's so damn _white_.

He can hear strange noises that slowly get clearer when he squeezes his eyes shut and just tries to breathe. They're voices, soft-spoken and there's many of them. And there's a beeping noise that's continuous in slow intervals. Kurt realized it was synchronized with his heartbeat. Kurt tried to open his eyes again and his lids felt heavy. His whole body did. He wanted to sleep more, but he couldn't find Sam where he'd last had him – kneeling beside him.

Kurt opened his eyes and blinked rapidly. The white brightness, he soon found, was an overhead light. Kurt turned his head. He was lying on a bed and the bed had blue sheets. Confused, Kurt turned his head in the opposite direction. There were more beds that stretched down in a long row. There were people in them. The people were hooked to IV droppers, and heart monitors and other machines Kurt didn't know of. He looked up and found he was attached to the same.

Kurt struggled to sit up and the beeping beside his bed increased. It felt like his limbs were made of lead. They felt loose and heavy and his head was suddenly aching. He held it in his hands, cradling it for a long while and just took deep breaths until he was able to look up without feeling like he was going to fall upwards into the sky. He looked around again. A light breeze met his skin and the walls flapped – and he realized he was in a tent. Kurt tried to speak, but his voice was hoarse with disuse.

As he tried to move his legs over the edge, Kurt finally noticed he was wearing a hospital gown. It was covered in blue polka dots – oh, gag him now please. His shoulder suddenly grew vicious and vibrant with pain and he clutched it desperately. He was stilled again and it frustrated him as he finally managed to get his legs over the edge of the bed. He immediately put his weight down on them to stand – and fell to the floor. The IV in his hand that he didn't even known was there was ripped free.

Kurt lay on the floor, gasping and he struggled to get back onto his feet. It took him a long while and his legs still felt stiff and like stems of rubber as he clung to the bed for support. He cradled his shoulder near his body as he looked around. From one of the beds across the room, a woman was staring at him. She looked old, in her seventies. She smiled when their eyes met. Kurt didn't smile back.

Stumbling from the bed, Kurt looked around wildly. Where was he? Where was Sam? And Finn? And Mercedes? Where was anybody? The last thing he remembered was – _Blaine_. Kurt felt his stomach roll nauseatingly as he approached the tent flaps and he closed his eyes, standing still and waited for it to pass. Once over, Kurt pushed forward again. The flaps rippled as he approached and Kurt reached out hesitantly. The soft material undulated under his grip as he pushed through them.

The light was blinding again and Kurt shielded his eyes. There were more voices now as he continued to blink through the streams of whiteness and as it cleared, he could see people. _Lots_ of people. So many of them. They were walking around, they were talking to one another, some seemed to be doing work, and others seemed to just be going about a daily business. There were men, women and children. The children were laughing and playing, and some women looked on as men walked between them. It took Kurt a moment to realize that men were were dressed in what looked like blue nursing scrubs with long sleeves, and women were in white; the same went for the children.

There were tents in lines, stretching farther than his eye could see, but somewhere beyond them, Kurt could make out a sold mass that blocked his view from seeing any farther – like a wall.

"You shouldn't be out here, you don't look well." Kurt jerked as a hand gently touched his shoulder and he whirled around. The movement brought pain to his shoulder. He laid eyes on an attractive young woman who didn't look much older than thirty with bright red hair. Her face was splattered with freckles and her smile was kind.

"Where the hell am I?" Kurt demanded immediately. The woman's smile didn't falter.

"You should be lying down. You'd lost a lot of blood by the time you got here–"

"Where _is_ here?" Kurt snapped and he noticed a name scrawled across in marker across her breast: Shannon. The woman cocked her head at him and reached out. She hesitated when he flinched and took a few steps back before she gently took his arm. He jerked it out of her touch, as if burned, "Where am I, Shannon? Where's my friends?"

"Rest assured, everyone you arrived with is just fine. If you'd like, I can tell them to come visit you if you come with me and lay back down–"

"Where am I? What the hell is this place!" Kurt shouted. Around him, people were stopping and staring. Shannon's smile might not have faltered, but it was starting to look strained.

"I'll tell you everything if you come with me and we can lie you down. Your wound has not fully healed, you could open the stitches," Shannon warned and Kurt backed away a few more steps as she approached, "You were unconscious when you got here, I can understand your concern, but right now, your concern needs to be about you."

"Where. Am. I?" Kurt practically growled and Shannon reached for him again – and Kurt shoved her. Shannon tumbled onto the ground, and Kurt felt pain blossom in a sharp, intense agony and he cried out, falling to his knees. Hands were on him immediately, and Kurt struggled to fight back, but his shoulder had gone loose and immobile, as if in defense to keep itself from being harmed further.

He was begging now as he felt himself being lifted to his feet, begging to know where he was, and where Sam was, because right now, Sam was the only one he wanted to see. No one was answering him. Was this so hard to answer? God, his shoulder hurt so much. He'd be happy to go lie back down, but he wanted to know where he was, where the hell were his friends and_what the fuck was going on_ –

"Hey, hey, I got this, let me take him." Kurt's head jerked up and he found Sam jogging towards them. He was dressed in the same blue scrubs, and his skin looked clean and unmarked, like he had after the shower in the police station. Kurt's memory brought the event back vividly. The shower, Rachel's nightmare, the mass of wanderers migrating outside the city for further sustenance that they were no longer receiving, Wes, the hotel, _Blaine_ – Blaine had shot him.

Blaine was dead.

"Sam," Kurt breathed out the other boy's name and pulled from the hands that held him. Sam opened his arms and Kurt sank right into them, fists twisting the thin material of his shirt. Sam's arms engulfed him and he smelled sweet and fresh all at the same time. Kurt pulled back, looking around, "Where... are we Sam?"

"The is the Boston US Army Department base. It's safe here, Kurt."

"... we're in Boston?" Kurt asked, confused. He looked around again, recognizing buildings in the opposite direction in which he had come out of the tent earlier. Or what was left of them. The skyline was smoldering with smoke that curled in dark tendrils towards the blue sky. There was only one skyscraper that stood, and the rest looked like they had fallen apart long ago. Some stood with only half their structure remaining, and others looked like perhaps a wanderer had gotten to them, ribbing out large sections of their bodies.

"Last I remembered, we were in Trenton, Pennsylvania. How long have I–"

"About seventeen days." Kurt sucked in a sharp breath as Sam kept a steady hold on his arm to keep him upright, "After you got... shot, you passed out. I think it was the loss of blood. We managed to bandage you up and stop the bleeding, but you didn't wake up," Sam's eyes didn't meet his, "I mean, you woke up about three times, but you mostly just cried and fell asleep again. And then it got infected, and after that, you just didn't wake up again," Sam's face was dark, and his eyebrows were knitted together in a way that made Kurt think he was going to cry.

"I honestly thought you were going to die. Then we got you here. They've got a doctor here and he drained the infection and stitched you up," Sam's voice was shaky, "They were low on meds, but he gave you what he could to fight the pain and infection. But you're okay now and that's really all I care about."

Kurt stood, dumbstruck, "But how... Boston was really... safe?" Sam nodded at the disbelief.

"I know. I kept thinking it'd be overrun with those bastards, and the outside of the city was. But they have people who patrol the borders every day and we found them on one of their shifts and they got us in," Kurt's legs felt really weak as Sam began to explain. He felt himself being lifted and Kurt wrapped his arms around the older boy's neck, holding tight, "What should have taken us seven hours to get into Boston took us three days. My car got stolen during the night. It was just gone one morning, and then David..." Sam suddenly fell quiet as he laid Kurt onto the bed. Kurt's lids felt heavy.

"What... what about David?" Kurt breathed out. His chest felt heavy, and it was hard to get words out, and he was suddenly so tired. Sam sat down beside the bed and was quiet for such a long time that Kurt thought he might fall asleep before he'd get an answer.

"He took his car. And left. We don't know where he is."

"Is everyone else okay?"

"Yeah. We're all okay. We had some close calls, and Puck thought we should leave you behind at one point because there was so little room in your car and we thought you were dying, but I wouldn't let them," Sam held his chin up and a small smile graced his face, and there was relief in his eyes, "We don't kill the living."

"Mercedes parents?" The smile on Sam's smile got bigger.

"They're here." Kurt let out a long sigh and he grinned and he felt Sam's hand curl within his own. Kurt squeezed back with what strength he had.

"Oh, and," Sam leaned in on the bed, propping his chin in his free hand, "You remember how you said the one person, if anyone, that we would find would be Coach Sylvester?" Kurt cocked his head tiredly, watching Sam try and repress his smile, but it was hard to do. It took Kurt's brain a moment to catch up and then his jaw dropped.

"You're kidding."

"You really thought the person who got us in here was just some ordinary Joe Shmoe? _Please_."

* * *

Jack rubbed his hands together, blowing into them to keep them warm, "Fuckin' Massachusetts. Pick a season." Beside him, Daniel laughed and handed him his thermos of coffee.

"Fuckin' Jack. Come prepared." Jack punched him in the shoulder, but accepted the thermos eagerly. The hot liquid burned sweetly from his mouth and down his throat, all the way to his belly. He handed it back to Daniel who accepted it hesitantly as he tried to stay focused on the road. The ATV engine growled as they headed across the terrain around the wall built around the camp. There was only forest on the south side of the camp; the surrounding sides lead into the city. The forest freaked the fuck out of Jack, so he really hoped they got through it soon.

"It's been quiet for a few weeks now. Think they've starting eating each other?" Daniel called over the wind. Jack shrugged, his cheeks numb and he pulled the scarf up over his nose. In a stand still, he wasn't so cold, but in the moving air as they did their patrol of the wall, it was brutal. So far, their search had gained nothing which was both a relief and a concern. The patrols moved in rings. One ATV patrolled the wall. Some ways out further, two ATVs took circled the area, and then they had foot patrol with two cars go into the city. Every day, they were finding less and less wanderers. Some people were rejoicing. Others, like Jack, were more concerned.

It just didn't sit right with him. At all. One day, millions of years ago, man learned it could walk on two legs and that when it did, it could better hunt food. They _learned_. And they were probably just as brainless as the undead wanderers, if not more so. At least, in the beginning. What if these... _things_ could learn? Learn to hunt better, learn to kill more proficiently. Jack's stomach twisted at the thought. How long would it take before that could happen? Millions of years? Or just a few months?

"You alright Jack?" Jack looked up as Daniel patted his shoulder – and he didn't even have time to cry out. It just came out of no where. From the darkness of the passing by tree and shrubbery, the face seemed to morph from thin air. He watched as hands joined it. It's long, rotted-flesh arms wrapped themselves around Daniel's shoulders.

"Shit!" Daniel's last word echoed through Jack's mind as he was wrenched from the ATV. Jack stared at the empty place where he'd been – and he was suddenly jetted forward as the machine went head first into a tree. Jack flew over the hood and hit the tree before rolling off and falling to the ground. Daniel was screaming and he could hear leaves rustling as he stood, grabbing for his gun. It wasn't on his waist. Jack frantically began to search, waving his flashlight around and his hands ran over leaves covered in coffee, making his grip sticky and wet.

The rustling of the leaves stopped, as did Daniel's screaming. Jack froze, his breathing heavy. In the darkness, he could hear a wet chewing. It was punctuated with long, haunted moans. Jack slowly began to shuffle backwards on his knees, setting down his knees and hands with caution – and a twig snapped beneath his weight. The chewing stopped. The moaning stopped. Jack breathed slowly in the darkness. The single stream of light from the flashlight lit up the leaves, fog rising from the top.

And then feet. They were bare. The flesh was gray and the tips were blue. Half of the toenails were gone and the pulpy, fleshy nail beds were a deep purple. Jack's breathing increased as the feet stopped in the way of the light. He could hear it sniffing. Jack stopped breathing entirely. The gun was at the wanderer's feet, he could see it now.

The wanderer moaned. It was loud and guttural. And then it crouched, dipping its face into the light. Its glassy, fogged eyes met his and Jack screamed. He stumbled to his feet and whirled around – and ran into a group of them. Their hands were all over him in seconds, and then came the teeth and then came the pain. His flesh was clawed and bit and scratched and pulled apart with sickly wet tearing sounds as dirtied fingers pried themselves at his stomach and tore it open.

He was dead before he hit the ground.

* * *

_Reviews are love._


	7. Chapter 7

**Title: **All Those Who Wander Are Lost 7/?

**Rating:** R

**Character(s)/Pairing(s):** Kurt Hummel/Sam Evans (with other pairings thrown in along the way)

**Author Notes:** YOU ASKED FOR IT AND I GAVE IT. : D Hevans zombie!fic porn time, beware.

**Warning:** gore, violence, swearing, sex.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own. Maybe a good thing. There'd be gay sex every where. With Kurt. Everywhere.

**Credit to The Walking Dead:** "I want to see how red your face can turn."

* * *

Sue had thought McKinley High School had been the worst place to habitat people on the planet. In fact, she'd had solid _facts_ – no, not opnions – but facts as to why it was so terrible, and why it was the most terrible place on earth to have a job. Or be a student. Or be within a ten mile radius of it.

She was wrong.

"Look at them Becky. All of them. _Pathetic_." She stood outside her tent, hands on her hips. There were no marks on her red track suit. She stuck out amongst the bland colors of blues and whites – she was Sue fucking Sylvester, not one of these common peasants, and she would damn well make sure that wherever she walked, people turned their heads. She'd come here two months ago, after she'd maimed her maid with one of her cheerleading trophies after the woman had come stumbling into the kitchen, one of her arms missing. She'd been far ahead of everyone else when she'd arrived in Boston. She'd taken Becky and her sister with her, and they'd hijacked an eighteen wheeler behind a BJ's and Sue Sylvester had left a path of destruction and bodies in her wake as she followed the radio signal before it had copped out that had put Boston as a safety zone.

"Is it true? Willaim and his glee-clubbers have arrived?"

"Yes coach."

"I'd be surprised if I didn't think the birds living in Shuester's hair flew them all to safety," She looked over at Becky who looked up at her with a smile, "I suppose we owe them a visit. I hear Porcelain had a bad run in with his Ken doll. Let's move, Becky." Sue started down between the path of tents, taking her time to bask in the glory of the eyes that followed her. When she had ridden in to Boston, blood smeared along the tires and truck freight, her shotgun on the dashboard, many of the refugees in the camp had turned to her like she was some sort of god. She was the one who'd started the patrols, and had run the camp since.

"Coach, look!" Becky pointed and a young man was jogging towards them. His face was red with strain, and he was panting hard when he reached them. His eyes were wide and Sue could _smell_ the fear that perspired from his skin.

"Mrs. Sylvester, we've got a problem."

* * *

"You found them like this?" Sue raised her nose. Flies buzzed around the eviscerated corpses and the stink was awful.

"Just this morning. When the ATV wasn't signed back in, we went looking and found them. Here. Like this." The man beside her swallowed thickly from behind the cloth he held over his face. His eyes were watering with the urge not to vomit. He swallowed again, gagged, and spit onto the leaves.

"Did you see any in the area when you found them?"

"No, ma'am."

"Then lets not bring concern to the rest of the camp just yet. Keep an eye open."

"Yes, ma'am."

"You're to leave my sight now. I'd like a day where I wasn't visually assaulted by your failure."

"Yes, ma'am."

* * *

A few days passed without a hitch. Everyone from the group took time settling in. They still jumped at loud noises, or at whispers during the night. The rustle of leaves still made them cringe. A child crying made them sweat. It got better, little by little. So did Kurt. After a few more days rest, his shoulder had started to finish up healing, and quite nicely. He couldn't raise it horizontally quite yet, but the doctor they had in the camp helped him with different exercises to help strengthen the damaged muscles. With Sam's help and reminders, Kurt was starting to feel better within days.

Running into Sue Sylvester had certainly been a trip. Sam hadn't heard so many insults on one person's hair in under a minute as he did that day when Mr. Shuester and Sue shook hands. Kurt didn't want to admit it, but he'd missed her insults. And the name "Porcelain". He wouldn't tell anyone that.

The _best_ thing that had happened to them in that next two weeks of settling in – was Artie. Apparently, just before she got out of Lima, Ohio, Sue had found the boy trying to make desperate calls to anyone in the glee club while attempting to board up his house with a flat wheel, and the other bent. Seeing him, seeing another one of their friends _alive_ had warranted them all a good cry.

"_And you still manage to look like you've raided Pee-Wee Herman's closet with those suspenders," Kurt sniffed with a laugh, "Suspenders and scrubs Artie? You can't be serious."_

"_What'chu talkin' about, boy? I look fly." Artie had chuckled before pulling him into a hug._

Kurt had cried when he'd seen Mercedes parents. Both were alive and well, and had made him cupcakes. Kurt would have said he ate one. Sam would have said he ate one, but that he'd stolen four when no one was looking and that he shared them with Sam in the safety of the night back in their tent. It was nice to see familiar faces, but in a way, most of the group cherished seeing warm, parental figures as their own had either died, or were wandering around somewhere, feasting upon their own kind.

"And here's to attempting to get back some form of normalcy to our lives." Puck raised his beer. The army base did not have a shortage on drinkers, and in a time like this, it was almost expected that most of the people you met knocked themselves out with a few glasses or bottles just to forget the past few months of hell.

Everyone raised their glasses and bottles to the air. The glass clinked together. The base had a cafeteria inside of the building that overlooked the camp. It was of a vast size, but people from the outside were only allowed within the cafeteria. Anywhere beyond was strictly for the military personnel and medical staff that were on base.

"I'm getting shitfaced tonight. That is all." Quinn informed the table. They laughed. Rachel sipped on a glass of orange juice with a smile as Finn squeezed an arm around her shoulders. Since they'd gotten to the camp and since Kurt had been with her, she'd looked much healthier. Her stomach was also beginning to protrude, a small swell pressing against her shirts. She'd been glad for the scrubs; they were much looser than jeans and skirts. She was being monitored daily by one of the medical staff to ensure the baby's safety. She would be the second person to give birth on the base.

Kurt sipped his drink and it burned his throat. His face contorted in rejection.

"What's the matter Hummel? Can't drink your weight in gin?"

"I know it comes as a shock, Puckerman, but I didn't make it a weekend habit to blackout and wake up in random beds."

"Touche, Humme. Touche. But drink up, I want to see how red your face can turn." Puck smirked and Kurt rolled his eyes, taking another sip. The drink went down easier this time. With each gulp, it got a little more so. Sam stuck to his Mike's Hard Lemonade like glue, leaning back in his chair and he grinned, slowly watching the rest of his friends progressively struggle to stay upright in their places, laugh, turn pink in the face, and drink down more. After his fourth, Sam kept having to tilt his head to the right to make the room stand straight.

Soon, Quinn's trying to high five Mercedes and missing; their foreheads bump together rather than their hands. Puck's telling Finn how much he loves him and how they should name the baby Noah, and Rachel's stuck in between their "bromance-hug" awkwardly sipping her juice. Sam's still trying to tilt his head with the room and is starting to fall off his chair. Artie's trying to pop a wheelie and does so unsuccessfully, flipping over onto the floor. Kurt's laughing so hard, he's got tears in his eyes.

It feels so good to be safe.

* * *

Sam groaned, his arms full of Kurt Hummel as the other boy is straddling his waist. Between gasps and kisses, Sam can hear the drunken slur of his name. He's already dizzy enough from the alcohol, but he has to close his eyes so as not to fall off the bed because Kurt's kissing him so much that he can't breathe and the lack of oxygen isn't helping.

"I'm really drunk," Kurt practically giggles into Sam's mouth. His thigh gets between Sam's leg, and Sam gasps sharply, his grip tightening on Kurt's hips, "Ouch Sam, your dick is hard." He says, almost deadpanned – before laughing again and Sam has to shut him up because if someone walks in, they're going to need to be a little more quiet than this. They were the first to stumble back from the cafeteria to their tent and Sam was glad, because Kurt had started getting really handsy and didn't seem to care that anyone else was in the room with them. Personally, he wouldn't have either, but even drunk, he's a gentleman and he'd rather shag Kurt silly in privacy then let other people watch. Though, that usually implied ownership, so maybe...

"Stop thinking. I'm trying to fuck you and it's distracting." Kurt snapped and Sam chuckled, running his hands up under Kurt's shirt. He's surprisingly fluent with his words for someone who keeps having to hold still every few minutes to make sure he doesn't fall off of his perch atop Sam's body. The skin is pale, and flawless. It's smooth beneath his fingertips as he tosses the scrubs shirt away and throws it onto the floor. It lands in silence.

The lantern candles shine a deep orange glow about the tent, and Sam has to admit, he likes this lighting much better than the sickly gray of the Dunkin Donuts bathroom. Kurt's skin seems to shimmer with sweat under the glow under the candlelight and it makes it look similar to caramel and soon, Sam can't even help himself, and he's lapping at every inch of skin he can get it. Kurt's hands tangle in his hair, head thrown back, his own hair askew. Sam's mouth is moving back and forth from shoulder to shoulder, over his collarbone and sucking at his neck, kissing across the expanse of warm skin between his nipples.

Kurt buried his nose in Sam's hair, running his fingers through the shaggy locks as Sam's hands come around from his hips, cupping his ass firmly. They're kissing again as Sam breathes heavily through his nose. He's got one hand tugging at the ties of Kurt's pants, and is shoving it down past the waistband, palming Kurt firmly through his undershorts. Kurt bucks forward frantically, moaning into his mouth. Sam's free hand digs nails into the creamy skin of Kurt's back before he takes his fingers to Kurt's lips. The warm, wet mouth envelopes the sensitive digits and Sam's cock gets harder, if that's at all possible. The tongue swirls around the tips of his fingers teasingly as Sam slips them out and slides them down the back of Kurt's pants.

"_Fuck_ Kurt, I love you." Sam breathes out in a long hiss. His fingers are hesitant as Kurt stiffens. He's aware of what he's said, but his drunken-addled brain is just catching up with the effect. When it does, he freezes too. He can feel Kurt breathing on his neck and it's short and quick and –

"God, you have no idea how long I've waited for you to say that." Kurt's moving again, his mouth on Sam's neck and Sam's eyes roll up as he moans through gritted teeth. He's got his fingers soon buried deep inside of Kurt as the other boy is jerking back against them with an eager passion that's driving him absolutely wild because drunk Kurt is just as hot as sober Kurt, except he giggles a lot more. And a lot more voyeuristic. Kurt wriggles, contorting his body with flexibility that Sam can only admire as he withdraws his fingers and Kurt's pants are suddenly gone. He moves down Sam's thighs and it working frantically on his ties with shaky hands. Sam helps, desperate and soon, his aching cock is free.

Kurt sighs at the sight and straddles further up Sam's body. Kurt's completely naked and it's a glorious sight that makes Sam emit sounds that are a lot more desperate and high-pitched than he intended. Kurt's laughing and Sam grips the back of his neck, silencing him with a rough kiss as Kurt sinks blissfully down his hardened member with a choked groan. Sam hisses, toes curling into the sheets, knees jerking.

He's really glad that no one's in the tent with them, because being quiet wouldn't be enough as the mattress starts to creak as Kurt begins to ride him in slow movements, hips undulating back and forth. Their movements are uneven and unsteady at first and Sam's trying to find a rhythm with the boy atop of him. It takes a few minutes because each time Kurt comes down on his cock, it's hot and tight and so damn good that he can barely think of doing anything, much less count a tempo.

"_Saaaam_," His name suddenly has multiple a's in it as Kurt whines his name, face buried into his neck as Sam finally manages to find a steady rhythm with his hips, Kurt rocking forward as Sam pushes up in smooth, firm thrusts and _god_, does that feel good. Kurt leans back, and Sam can run his hands over his naked flesh and it's slick underneath his hands as he runs them down his chest and over the flat plane of his stomach and – what was this?

"You have... a tattoo," Sam gasped out and Kurt looked down, flushed and breathless. He watches with momentary surprise. Sam's fingers are running over the rose on his lower hip; with his skinny jeans on, it was just beneath the waistband. It's a gorgeous red, open, with wide petals, and two vines curl around it. It's small and Sam touches it again, and the flesh is hot and Kurt trembles and is starting to move again and Sam figures he can question it later because right now, Kurt's clenching tight around him and he knows he's coming soon. Kurt's moving the angle around atop of him, and it's getting harder to find a steady pace _and_ achieve release when he's so damn close – but he doesn't need to worry anymore because Kurt found what he was looking for, and he's seeing stars as he bites down on Sam's shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut.

Kurt's kissing Sam firmly on the mouth again and it makes him dizzy. Sam watches out of the corner of his eye as Kurt's hand goes between his leg and _holy fuck_, Kurt's stroking himself _and_ riding his cock and – Sam comes first with a yell into the other boy's mouth, hips arching off the bed. Kurt comes only a moment later, mouth moving away from Sam's as he cries out, trying to breathe as the pleasure floods him.

They're twitching and rocking against one another, and Kurt's trying to still himself, but it's just not happening. They're stuck like this for a good five or so minutes, slick with sweat, hands sliding over one another and through each others' hair. Sam's glad Kurt lets him muss up his hair, because he's fairly certain he looks absolutely adorable with it sticking up every which way.

"What's... that tattoo?" He asks after a moment of catching his breath. Kurt cocks his head before laying it down on Sam's chest, breathing heavy. For a long while, they're just silent and the cool air from outside is making him shiver.

"My mother, when she was alive... had a garden. She grew... roses. Gave me one for... my birthday... every year until... she died," Kurt manages to pant out between gasps for breath, "I miss her," Sam slowly strokes a hand through Kurt's hair. He's not sure what to say, and he's pretty sure there is nothing, so he's quiet, "But I'm glad... she's not here. To die... like this. Like... my dad." Kurt's still breathing hard, and it's hitching slightly and Sam's pretty sure it's _not_ from the mindblowing orgasm he'd just had. And yes, it was mindblowing. He's confident in saying that.

Sam wraps his arms tight around the other, and pulls him closer, staring up at the tent ceiling. Kurt holds him tight in return. Sam wriggles the sheets out from underneath him and pulls them over them. He's glad he does that, because suddenly, Puck's tripping into the tent, followed Rachel who's trying to keep Finn upright. Sam has to admit, he's impressed she can do so for someone who's about a foot and a half shorter than Finn. Puck mumbles something he can't hear, but he can hear Rachel above it all.

"_No_, you cannot cuddle with them, they're asleep. And I don't think they'd appreciate you being in their bed tomorrow morning."

Puck mumbles something else.

"No, Noah. Sam did not impregnate Kurt. That's impossible. They're not having rainbow babies, go to your bed."

Sam can see Puck's form in the dim light stumble to the back of the tent and flop down onto a spare mattress. He hears Rachel sigh loudly and he figures it's not Puck's bed, but he can already hear Puck snoring, so she lets it go. He watches patiently as Rachel puts Finn in bed. They kiss and Rachel leaves. She returns a few minutes later with a rowdy Quinn, pushing Artie through the tent, followed by Mercedes.

"Awww, they're making rainbow babies!" Quinn squeals and Sam can feel Kurt shaking against him, hear him snort into his chest, and Sam understands he's trying not to burst out laughing. Rachel hushes her and gets her to bed. Mercedes goes to her bed and immediately flops down atop of it, practically tackling the pillow for sleep. Rachel helps Artie onto his bed who quietly thanks her, and soon, Rachel's gone to Finn's bed. Sam watches as she stretches and he can see the round swell of her growing belly and he smiles. Soon, the tent is quiet.

Shifting, Sam looks down at Kurt, expecting their conversation to continue – and instead, he finds the countertenor asleep on his chest. Flicking a stray lock from Kurt's forehead, Sam sighed and laid back against the bed, looking up at the ceiling until his lids get heavy and he falls asleep.

* * *

They do wake up with Puck in the bed. Sam can't figure out when it happened, but the first face he sees the next morning is not Kurt's, but rather Puck's on his shoulder with an arm slung around his waist as Kurt seemed to have moved to his opposite side sometime during the night.

Kurt shrieks and Sam falls out of the bed.

Puck wakes and just starts laughing.

* * *

It seems almost too good to be true as the camp flourishes with another group of refugees. They're from Canada. One woman is a nurse, and she's immediately marked with a red cross on her scrubs, her name written on the breast pocket. She's allowed beyond the cafeteria, and the cheerful demeanor that she'd displayed when she got there dissipates after a few days. No one's sure why.

Karma really is a bitch, she decides one night. She looks down at the name on her shirt. Leah. She's carrying samples from one station to the next, and after this round, she'll be done and able to go to bed. She really needs a cigarette. She's not supposed to, but she can let herself out the back entrance for five minutes for a smoke, can't she?

Leah struck the flint of her lighter, pushing on the emergency exit and stepped into the cold night air.

A swarm of wanderers were waiting at the door. She didn't even have time to scream as the cigarette hit the ground, sparks flying, and she's dragged into the mass of them. They immediately begin to penetrate the building, and _no one knows_.

* * *

_Reviews are love._


	8. Chapter 8

**Title: **All Those Who Wander Are Lost 8/?

**Rating:** R

**Character(s)/Pairing(s):** Kurt Hummel/Sam Evans (with other pairings thrown in along the way)

**Author Notes:** Don't hate me.

**Warning:** gore, violence, swearing, character death.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own. Maybe a good thing. There'd be gay sex every where. With Kurt. Everywhere.

* * *

"Noah?"

Puck groaned, head under the pillow. He peered out from under the edge, squinting at his sister. She was standing next to his bed, eyes large. She kept shifting from one foot to the other in rapid succession, practically hopping up and down.

"Yes, Sarah?" He grumbles, trying not snap. She purses her lips and looks down at her feet. Her toes were twisting together and she keeps bobbing up and down and Puck's pretty sure he's going to slap her at any given moment. But he doesn't, because she's got him wrapped around her finger anyway and he's also sure his mother's spirit would haunt the _shit_ out of him if he did. And that's a scarier thought than the undead, sometimes.

"I have to _pee_." She whispers, embarrassed. Puck stared blankly at her.

"Then go?"

"It's dark outside Noah!" She complained, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Sometimes, Puck forgets that his sister's only seven and that being scared of the dark is most certainly _not_ badass. He blinks into the darkness, trying to get the sleep from his eyes.

"Then just go Sar, the bathroom's like... two tents away."

"But what about the wanderers." She says with a soft voice and Puck reaches out, patting her head lightly and cups her face, forcing her too look at him. Her eyes avert his and Puck waits until they meet him and when they do, she looks like she understands that she's being childish, but won't vocally admit it.

"Sar, it's okay. They're not here. They're not even close by, okay? You'll be safe," Sarah looks doubtful, and Puck gently pats her cheek, "Now go pee and get back to sleep. You need beauty rest," He winked and the girl laughs nervously, looking over at the waving tent flaps and Puck gives her a playful push towards them; she slaps him and giggles, "Seriously Sarah," She nods, ducking in and kisses him on the cheek, " You'll be fine, I promise."

His promise is broken.

* * *

Sarah slowly tiptoed out of the tent. Her bladder was aching with its fullness when it had awoken her about an hour ago. She'd tried to stem it off and fall back to sleep, but did so without any luck until she finally gave in and went to her brother. Talking to him had made her feel much more confident as cold grass tickled the soles of her feet. The night are was brisk, and she rubbed her arms, hurrying to the toilet.

She still didn't like the dark.

The bathrooms were near the base building as she was relieved to see the outhouses near the front doors come into view. Strange, though – the front door was open. And the lights were off. There were dark marks on the door she couldn't make out, and she let her mind convince her it was just dirt.

She paused when leaves crackled. Looking over her shoulder, she saw nothing. Nothing was in front of her either. She took a deep breath and continued. She opened the door – and paused again. It was a moan, soft, almost distant-sounding. She looked around. Nothing still. _The wind_, she convinced herself as she locked herself into the stall and lit up the kerosene lamp that hung on the edge.

Sarah's bladder was about ready to burst as she went to shimmy out of her undies – and there was no toilet paper.

"Damn it!" She cursed, and immediately slapped a hand over her mouth. She shouldn't talk like that, Noah had said. Sighing, she decided to let her bladder strain for a few minutes longer as she went and got toilet paper from the tent and came back. Pulling her nightgown back around her legs, Sarah huffed angrily as she threw open the door – and teeth sank directly into her arm.

* * *

They hadn't been asleep. Actually, Sam had gotten them a tent alone near the entrance of the camp after Puck's intrusion a few days ago. They found out, very soon, he was a cuddler and quite possibly closet-gay whenever he was drunk.

The music was so sweet.

Sue had come back with almost a half dozen radios and battery packs that she'd raided on a deep cleansing mission through Boston. She proclaimed that she would be using them to seek out other safety zones, as well as record alerts of their whereabouts should anyone need to know of their location. Sam might have stolen one. Okay, yes he did, he won't lie. And he's pretty sure Sue knew, but she says nothing, but she does give him a stern talking to about "Porcelain" whom he only assumed was Kurt – and a pack of condoms.

Sam didn't even know how to react before retreating away.

"This is nice," Kurt sighed warmly, "Really nice." Sam grinned brightly. Sure, splitting chowder and milk on the bed maybe wasn't the most romantic moment in history, but it was the thought that counted – and it wasn't like there was a Breadstix open in the county. Especially when the world was ending. Seriously.

"Hey Sam?" Sam looked up, catching a drop of chowder on his chin with his tongue. He watched Kurt's eyes darken while simultaneously widen. It took the other a moment to regain his composure before Kurt was leaning over the edge of the bed. When he returned upright, he had a small, unevenly wrapped box in his hand.

"What's that?"

"It's a present."

"For what?" Sam cocked his head as he took the present, moving it in his hands. When Kurt doesn't answer him, he looks up and repeats the question. Kurt looks a little dumbfounded, and Sam's confused. Though, that's about the base of their relationship sometimes. He thinks it's the primary basis of Finn and Rachel's relationship too, so that makes him feel a bit better that at least they're not _that bad_.

"Your birthday, Sam." Kurt says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"But my birthday was – oh." Sam blinks. Oh. Right. His birthday. For the rest of his life, he'd be plagued with the thought that his birthday would have been the day the dead walked again. And that was if he even lived to see any further birthdays in the coming future. Kurt smiles and gestures his hands towards the present. Sam grins, and immediately begins to tear at the wrapping. There's actually a whole lot more wrapping than he'd thought, and the gift itself is much smaller than he anticipated.

It's a cassette. On the front, in large bold letters, it's Kurt's obviously scrawling: _I love you_.

Sam flips it over in his hands, and smiles, "When'd you get this?"

"I went with Sue. Remember when I told you I was going to the bathroom–"

"And you were gone for six hours–"

"And then I told you that I had to cook for the cafeteria–"

"And then the food sucked." Sam's nose wrinkled up. Kurt rolled his eyes and flicked a hand towards the radio and Sam got up, hurrying over to it. He popped open the holder and put the cassette in. Sam sat obediently beside it, ear to the speaker. The slow tuned jazz slowly started up with the soft crackle of static. Sam immediately recognized _What a Wonderful World_. About two seconds later, he recognized Kurt's voice, soft and sweet.

"You... recorded this?" Sam cocked his head as he listened to the swells of the melody accompanied by Kurt's voice. Kurt nodded.

"I did it while I was "cooking". I managed to lock the bathroom door and record over the song." Kurt looked proud and Sam turned up the volume. The tune carried easily and Kurt's voice echoed inside the tent. Sam closed his eyes for a moment before standing and offering out a hand. Kurt stared at it, raising a brow and Sam wiggled his fingers, smiling.

"Dance with me." Kurt laughed and took the hand. Sam pulled him up and took him into his arms. Kurt's arms went around his neck and Sam's hands fell to his waist, pulling him in close. Kurt rested his cheek on his Sam's shoulder and Sam turned his face into Kurt's hair. Taking one of Kurt's hands from his neck, Sam intertwined it with his own and squeezed.

Their swaying is in time with the music. Kurt smells like the earth after the rain. Sam's cold from the draft, but he's warm with Kurt against his body. He starts humming with the music, and Kurt's voice is sun harmonizing with his own. Sam laughs softly, kissing Kurt gently behind the ear –

And then there's screaming.

* * *

Puck knows his sister's cry from anywhere. When he was younger, before his father left, he had memorized her sobs when he would find her in her room, or in the pantry, in her closet, crying as she would cover her ears as their parents fought.

He practically threw himself from the bed. Quinn was jostled beside him, staring after him groggily.

"Puck? Where are you going?" She asked, but he was already out of the tent. It took her mind a long moment to register the scream. No, _screams_. There was more than just one person screaming. Quinn bolted upright and the fog dissipated from her head and she hurried from the bed. She took good measure and brought the bat with her.

* * *

_They're everywhere_.

There isn't an area where they're not crawling.

People are running around, people are screaming, people are crying.

People are _dying_.

* * *

Kurt and Sam stayed frozen against each other, eyes on the tent. For a moment, Kurt contemplates turning out the candles, and just staying hidden in the tent and hope that no one finds them. It's crushed a moment later when a figure is outlined against their tent flap.

The wanderer comes bursting through. There's fresh blood dripping from its mouth, and flesh was stuck between its teeth. It screeched at them, hands reaching out and clawing at them. Kurt and Sam drew apart and it flew between them. It tripped over the bed.

Kurt watched as the hand reappeared, grasping at the sheets. It left blood, gritty marks on the covers as it drug itself up. The oily hair swung in what might have once been a gorgeous face but was now a mess of flesh and hate and disease and _hunger_. It's eyes are a sickly yellow as it crawls over the bed, extending a leg clumsily over the edge of the bed. It opens it mouth, and screams. It's a guttural, terrifying sound as it stumbles its way towards them.

Kurt throws the first thing he can get his hands on.

It's the kerosene lamp. The glass shatters in the wanderer's face and the oil drips down its face. The flames are faster. In seconds, the entire beast is lit in flame. Its limbs flail about, and it's screaming again as it stumbles over the nearest bed. The sheets burst into a plume of fire and Sam jerks Kurt back as the flames spread to the tent wall and they began to lick their way across the entire expanse of the fabric.

They run from the tent and run into hell.

* * *

The bat makes a solid thud as it makes contact with the wanderer's temple. Blood is spattered up to the handle, and it's all over her hands as Quinn tries to move her way through the mass of them. She's finding that a bat really wasn't the best idea, but it wasn't like she had known they were going to be crawling around the place by the _hundreds_.

She screams as another leaps at her, and she's suddenly got one on her back. It's hands pry at her as she wriggles and throws herself about to keep it from being able to get its teeth into her flesh. She shoves herself backwards and both of them land against a tent wall. The entire shelter comes crashing down and Quinn rolls as the creature flails, getting lost in the fabric.

Panting, she stands, whipping around with the bat raised and takes off the nearest wanderer's swing with one fell swoop of the metal. Just behind it is Rachel who's calling Finn's name and looking around frantically and – Quinn throws the bat without thinking, and the weight of it knocks a wanderer off its feet just beyond Rachel's frantic form.

Rachel jumps, shrieking and looks at Quinn with wide eyes who runs to her, grabbing her by the wrist. The rounded belly makes her want to be sick as she picks of the bat again, and though she wants to find Puck desperately, she can't bring herself to do it as she drags Rachel for Sue's tent.

* * *

"You get the _fuck off of her_!" Puck knows that the thing can't understand him, but that doesn't make him any less enraged as he's watching the wanderer rip flesh from his little sister's arm, and another has its teeth in her neck. He doesn't use the gun to shoot. He takes the handle and brings it down on each of their heads. He gets the one on her neck first because Sarah isn't screaming anymore, and suddenly, Puck wishes she _was_ because she at least sounded _alive_.

The one on her arm takes notice of him and pulls off. It's chewing on a chunk of her skin, jaw gnawing it between its teeth as it lurches itself at him. Puck pulls the trigger and suddenly, there's no face to look at anymore because its head is completely gone.

Sarah falls to the ground like a rag doll, limp and glassy-eyed. Puck kneels down beside her. Her eyes find his and they widen even further and Puck cradles her face in his hands, "Sar? Sarah, oh my god, I'm so sorry, you're gonna be okay, it's okay," He reassures, but he knows he's wrong and his chest really hurts now and he can't breathe properly, "_Sarah_."

She's so pale, now. The blood stands out brightly against the color, and the white scrubs don't help. Her body is jerking, and it sounds like she's trying to breathe through a straw. Her eyes never leave his.

* * *

Finn can't find Rachel. He'd run out when he heard Sarah screaming, and he'd thought Rachel had been with him. And now he can't find her. He's being bounced around as he tries to fight his way through the crowds, and orange light in the distance – _where Kurt's tent is, with Sam _– makes his stomach drop. There's a fire breaking out.

"Rachel? _Rachel_!" He shouts over the screaming crowds who are rushing about in madness. He's not even fully aware of anything until he's got hands on his shirt that aren't human, and they're dragging him towards a gaping mouth full of broken, yellow teeth and a purple, lolling tongue. Finn gets the gun between them and pushes. The creature stumbles back with a harsh cry, turns, and jumps on the nearest victim. It's a young woman with a baby in her arms.

The wanderer rips the baby from her arms and before the woman can react, another grabs her from behind and throws her to the ground. Finn watches in horror as all he can see is her legs as they kick and struggle as the wanderer is joined by a half dozen others who descend upon her. Finn wants to help her, but doesn't, and only reacts when the wanderer is trying to rip its teeth through the blanket on the baby's body. He shoots it in the back of the head. The wanderer drops and the baby screams and Finn immediately picks it up. It's a baby boy and he's hollering with all the strength he can manage.

Finn feels helpless as he brings the baby to his chest and continues to search for Rachel.

* * *

Grace Jones knelt beside her bed, prayer beads wrapped around her hands. She prayed with trembling hands. She prayed hard. She pressed her hands to her face, tears streaming down her cheeks as the words fly past her lips in streams of memorized syllables. She sounds like she's babbling because she's crying so hard.

Beside her, Mercedes is pressed to her side. Outside of the tent, her father, Grace's husband, lies dead and they don't turn towards the tent flaps as they can see the shadows of the wanderers who are feeding on his body. They can hear it, though. It's wet and the sound of bones being broken and gnawed on makes Grace's stomach curl. Mercedes cries into her hands, but she's trying to be quiet because if they attract attention, they're next and they have nothing to defend themselves with.

* * *

Sue was not afraid. _Fuck no_. She'd been expecting this.

"Becky, you stay with Jean. Jean, you don't leave this tent until I get back," Sue cocked the shot gun, "Understand?" Both of them nodded at her and she propped it over her shoulder, nodding approvingly, "I thought once I left McKinley, I wouldn't be assaulted with all these fatties and uglies – I was wrong. My work is never done."

Becky smiled at her and Jean gave her a thumbs up.

Sue pushed open the tent flap and stormed out. The first one that saw her was actually advancing on the Mohawk boy who's leaning over something she can't see. The wanderer changed direction as soon as it caught wind of her. She rolled her eyes, took aim, and it soon lay in a crumpled, bloodied heap on the ground. She grabs a passing man whom she recognizes did assigned patrols. He's panting and she glares at him.

"Your breath stinks of mediocrity and cowardice," She hands him her gun – and the man watches with a pale face as she reaches behind her and pulls a gun seemingly from thin air. What he can assume is that it came from the back of her pants and he doesn't know whether to fear the fact he could be eaten at any moment, or that Sue Sylvester can walk around with a gun down her pants, "You think this is hard? Try listening to the cries of the cookie-making elves that live in Shuester's hair for longer than thirty seconds. That's hard. Now go get the patrol and get them back here," Sue could see the fire brewing in the tents down near the entrance and she frowned more deeply – she growled when the man didn't move, "_Now_."

* * *

Sam's trying not to _freak the fuck out_, but Kurt's hand is slipping from his own as they're running through the masses of people and dodging wanderers. Their grip is sweaty and he can imagine Kurt's nose wrinkling up in disgust for a fraction of a second – before he's got a writhing body atop of his own. The face is hideous. Actually, there's not much of a face. Both cheeks are gone and all of the teeth are missing and he's watching the gums snap open and close. When it bites him on the shoulder, he can hear Kurt shrieking – but it can't break skin. It's sucking on his shoulder and he can feel the gums attempting to tear flesh from his shoulder, but it's unsuccessful.

Sam lays there for a few horrified seconds and takes another few to be grateful as he shoves it off of him. It rolls away, gets back up and is crushed by the tent falling atop of it as it stumbles into the supports. Sam rubs large bruise and it's throbbing on his shoulder and Kurt's grabbing at him frantically, "I'm alright, I'm alright Kurt, I'm okay," Sam reassures breathlessly. _If it had teeth, I'd be _– Sam doesn't let himself finish the sentence, because Finn's suddenly running up to them, a bundle in his arms.

"Have you guys seen Rachel?" His eyes are wide and frantic and both of them shake their heads – and Finn's suddenly grabbing Sam with his free hand (or well, he has to toss down his gun) and Sam grabs Kurt and they manage to narrowly escape the tent opposite them that's on fire. They watch in horror as it sets a good dozen or so wanderers aflame, but the undead walk still, pursuing their next meal, grabbing at their nearest food source and even setting them ablaze.

Finn keeps his hand on Sam's wrist, who keeps a grip on Kurt who grabs the gun as they turn and run.

* * *

The screams seem never-ending as smoke billows into the sky, and with it, the smell of rot and burning flesh rises.

* * *

Sue cleanses the place like Christ cleansed his people, and she smirks to herself at the analogy. Her. Compared to Christ. She was the peoples' savior here. No one else seemed to be doing a god damned thing except running around, screaming their heads off – or actually had no heads.

_Weak_.

The man had rounded up what patrol he could, and they'd come back. As they'd stormed in, some of the chaos seemed to regain composure, and people began to fight back. Gun shots, bats, glass, bed posts, _bare hands_ – Sue had been impressed. But she would never tell anyone. That might boost their ego. And then she'd have to crush it, because anyone who had a larger ego than her needed to be shot and dragged of sight.

The fire was the hardest to quell. It had spread rapidly. Tents went up in seconds and spread to others. People without protection ran to the base building and hid inside, watching as the place was brought back to order. But it was no longer safe anymore. It was no longer clean.

Inside was where Finn found Rachel. He let go of Sam then, and stood frozen for a moment. The baby was still in his arms, still hollering and he was afraid he was going to hug Rachel so hard, he might crush the child. He'd forever be grateful to Kurt when his step-brother took the baby from him. He'd later remember that as soon as he did, the baby was quiet. But he couldn't then, because he's suddenly holding Rachel in a bear-hug and she's squeezing him tight, sobbing into his shoulder. Quinn's smiling at them, but she's got tears running down her face and Finn nods at her. He can't speak anymore, his breath has been taken from him.

* * *

It's six hours later before anyone goes outside again.

The sky is gray, and it's cold. There's the smell of smoke and a thick, pungent smell of burning flesh and people start to vomit as soon as they set their feet out the door. But they press on. The tents are smoldering where they once stood. There's bodies every where, wanderers and refugees alike.

Kurt holds the baby to him closely. The name on the blanket is Christopher. Sam's hand is on the small of his back as they looked around. It's silent. There's nothing. Sam's reminded of the morning of his seventeenth birthday.

No birds.

No voices.

No wind.

_Nothing_.

The baby's eyes are wide and watching them intently. Kurt's not looking back and even though the infant wouldn't understand, or perceive anything around him, he hides the baby into his chest so he can't even get the chance. It's only when he does that does he hear the loud sobbing. He can remember it vividly, from when he'd shot Santana and Brittany. The memory makes him gag and when he freezes in place, Sam watches him worriedly, before he's looking around for the source of the noise.

It's Puck.

People stop and stare. Quinn's nearest to him. Some people can't see what Puck is leaning over, but everyone who can knows it's not a what, but a who. The sobs are so pained and weak and _heartbroken_ that people around him begin to cry, even if they don't understand. Kurt's hand goes to his mouth as he gets closer and he turns towards Sam, who immediately keeps Kurt pressed to his chest, but can't look away himself. Rachel's back is turned, and Finn can feel her shaking with held back sobs, but he can't look away either. Mercedes appears a moment later in the mass, eyes wide, her mother's hand in her own. Her eyes immediately close again, and beside her, her mother begins to pray once more.

"_Saraaaaaaah_," Puck practically moans, shoulders hitching with each sob. He's shaking her shoulders. Not hard, but as much like if someone were jostling another awake from a slumber. Only when Sarah wakes up again, it won't be Sarah. Puck seems to understand, but doesn't want to. His hands keep tightening in her arms, and each time it wrinkles her shirt, he immediately flattens it out and tries to wake her again, "_Saraaaaaah_," He's begging now. He's not asking her anymore. He's begging and pleading with the lifeless body, but it's unmoving.

Puck presses his face into her chest, and cries. He doesn't beg anymore, just holds her. After a moment, it seems as if he can't even stand being near her and he pulls up. He begins to bury himself into his shirt, yanking it over his head and hides his face inside of it, rocking back and forth on his knees. Quinn places a gentle hand on his shoulder and Puck jerks away. He places his hidden face against Sarah's chest again, sobbing louder, and Sam watches, swallowing around a lump in his throat as Puck tries to stifle the sobs with a fist through his shirt, "_Saraaaaaah_."

The broken sob of the girl's name haunts them all.

–

Sue has recorded a single warning message onto the radio, looping it continuously into all radio frequencies she can tap into as they do a clean up:

_Boston, Massachusetts is not safe. I repeat, not safe. The area has been contaminated. Boston, Massachusetts is not safe. I repeat, not safe. The area has been contaminated. Boston, Massachusetts is not safe. I repeat, not safe. The area has been contaminated. Boston, Massachusetts is not safe. I repeat, not safe. The area has been contaminated._

_

* * *

Reviews are love._


	9. Chapter 9

**Title:** All Those Who Wander Are Lost 9/10

**Rating:** R

**Character(s)/Pairing(s):** Kurt Hummel/Sam Evans (with other pairings thrown in along the way)

**Author Notes**: Okay guys, this chapter is basically closing the story with only one more chapter left. The next chapter will be more of an epilogue of sorts to the end of the story completely; it will wrap everything up. OH GOD. WHAT AM I GOING TO DO WITH MY LIFE AFTER THIS?

PS - YOU GUYS HAVE THE HONOR OF THE SECOND MULTI-CHAPTER FIC I'VE EVER FINISHED.

**Warning:** gore, violence, swearing.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own. Maybe a good thing. There'd be gay sex every where. With Kurt. Everywhere.

* * *

They'd set up shelter inside of the base after it had been cleared and was pronounced safe. The cafeteria tables were pushed to the farthest walls, and the floor was cleared. Blankets and tarps and pillows that could be salvaged. The food supply, luckily, was undisturbed and still vast.

The clean up outside started only a few hours after it had ended. Cases of reawakening stretched from just a few hours, to just a few days, and no one was willing to take the chance to wait and calculate an average. They'd managed to corner the fire, and began throwing bodies in. Flesh burning was a think, pungent smell that most couldn't handle. Some wandered away sick, and others put wet cloths over their noses and mouths to try and lessen the offensive scent.

Body after body was thrown in, and people closed their eyes to the faces, praying to wash them away, and praying that the eyes would remain closed until they were nothing but piles of ash. It took hours to finish. There were a few scares as some rose, hungry and savage. They were shot down and put in the pile.

One was left.

And no one could get him to give her up.

* * *

It was Sue who went to Puck.

From the windows of the cafeteria, people watched as the woman, her back to them, stood behind the boy. His face hadn't come out of his shirt. It was still pressed to her chest. They watched her kneel down. One of her hands touched his back, and he didn't pull away, but his shoulders had begun to shake again. He pulled of the little girl's chest.

Eyes watched curiously as Puck gently pushed hair from her face and put it behind her ears. He straightened out her shirt and gently folded her hands on her chest. He slowly intertwined the fingers, and then bent in and kissed them. Sue's mouth was still moving, but no one could hear what she was saying as they watched Puck stand. She stood with him, both hands on his shoulders. Puck nodded at her – and then Sue hugged him. Her face is blank, and most people would say she looked to be somewhere between genuine care, and wanting to throw up.

Puck turned slowly about, eyes to the ground and people pulled away from the door as he came inside. He avoided everyone's eyes as he went to the corner of the cafeteria and sat down. When he was still, people turned their eyes and continued with their day. Outside, Sue gently picked up the young girl's form and carried it to the fire pit.

Quinn sat down beside Puck. This time, when she touched him, he leaned into it.

"What'd she say to you?" Puck said nothing for a moment and Quinn was about to push when he finally lifted his face. His cheeks were still wet with obvious tears, but he had a strange, crooked smile on his lips. It's pained and sad, but Quinn would rather have a desperate, sorrowful smile than have nothing at all.

"She promised she would be careful. She promised Sarah wouldn't hurt anymore," Puck's voice is wavering, "She said that doing this... doesn't mean that I... that I love her any less. I'm not a monster," Puck's face is back in his hands and he's crying again.

"She said it wasn't my fault."

* * *

Christopher turns out to be a lively baby. He only seems about four or so months old. He's got the roundest little cheeks with dark, brown eyes and dark hair that's very similar to Kurt's. His hands are tiny, but the fingers are plump and grasp at everything in his reach. When he smiles, it's open mouthed and wide and he's giggling.

But when he cries, Sam's not so sure he can find Christopher cute anymore.

"You changed him, and he already took a nap, why's he still upset?" Sam's honestly confused. He remembered how his twin brothers used to cry even if they'd been tended to. It was like they just enjoyed crying. But who enjoyed feeling that upset? Kurt tosses him an aggravated look, and Sam throws up his hands in defense. He's got Christopher in his arms who's going between loud wails, quieting down to soft hiccups, and then bringing up the volume again. Rinse, lather and repeat.

"He's hungry, Sam."

"Then get him the milk from the refrigerator."

"Sam, even if he wasn't on breast milk, he wouldn't be drinking actual milk, he'd be drinking formula." Kurt says as if it were the most obvious thing the world. Sam scowls, but finally realizes what Kurt's looking for in the pantry and helps him.

"I don't understand why they wouldn't have any formula if they have a god damn baby in the camp–"

"It was an army base Kurt. I seriously doubt the army had any babies."

"Then _maybe_ when the woman had the baby, they obviously should have realized that they were going to need some and gotten some."

"That's not something that would be easy to get to with wanderers everywhere, and it's not like it grows on trees anyway–"

"I know that Sam, but if you've got a better idea, I'd love to hear it." Kurt snaps and Sam sighs, rubbing his face in his hands. For a moment, he just keeps his face covered before he starts shaking his head. Laughter bubbles up and when he pulls his hands back, Kurt's staring at him with a raised brow in a way that seems to be asking if Sam's gone crazy.

" We act like an old married couple with this kid." Sam smiles at him, and reaches out, pulling Kurt in by the waist. Kurt stares up at him with the same look, and Sam leans in, kissing Kurt hard on the mouth. Kurt melts against him, returning the kiss with a fervor – and Christopher suddenly squawks between them. They draw apart and the infant is gazing up at them with wide eyes. Sam reaches down and pets him gently on the head.

"You two alright in here?" Sam and Kurt looked up as Finn appeared in the doorway again. He smiled as he spied Christopher, giving a small wave. The baby's face lit up, mouth opening in a wide smile. Sam sighed with relief. At least it wasn't crying, "Wait... what _are_ you guys doing in here anyway?" It was as if Finn said some sort of magic (read: bad) word that Christopher somehow associated with food, and the baby began to cry again. Kurt hushed him quietly and Christopher's cries became whimpers as Kurt bounced him gently.

"He's hungry. And they don't have formula."

"Warm up some milk?" Finn suggested. Before Kurt could toss him the same look he'd given Sam, Rachel appeared behind him with a matching expression.

"Finn, you can't do that with a baby this age. Their stomach's can't digest actual milk yet," She pouted her lips and Finn rubbed the back of his neck. He smiled awkwardly, and slowly, the pout melted away and was replaced by a sympathetic smile. She gently rubbed his shoulder, and began looking about the pantry to help. Finn did the same. They searched and tore apart the entire inventory, put it back together, and then tore it apart again. Nothing. There wasn't a single can. Kurt palmed his face as Christopher was slowly becoming unruly once more.

"He must have been breastfed," He sighed, "He wouldn't have liked the formula anyhow. And he probably wouldn't have liked the bottle." Sam looked worriedly at Christopher and Kurt. Christopher's cheeks were red from crying and they were shiny with tears, but he looked too tired from to continue anymore. It worried him. He glanced at Finn who looked helpless. He looked at Rachel. She staring intently at Christopher, a hand on her rounding belly.

She turned to Finn slowly, "Why don't you go check on Puck again? Sam, you too."

"Wait, why me?" Sam asked, confused, brow furrowing. Rachel's face darkened and Sam's lips compressed into a tight line and he nodded. Kurt went to go with them and Rachel put a gentle hand on his shoulder to still him. Kurt said nothing and remained where he was. Once they were gone, she pulled her hand back and closed the door.

"Let me take him," Rachel said quietly. Kurt's arms instinctively held Christopher closer to his body as he tried to decipher what she meant, "It's the only way he'll be able to eat until he's old enough for milk and solid foods, Kurt." As she speaks, she's reaching beneath the collar of her shirt and Kurt understands as he watches her bra suddenly seem to appear out of thin air from her sleeve. She folds it delicately and places it on the shelf, holding out her arms.

"Are you sure?" Kurt asks cautiously, his eyes following Rachel's arms and their extended direction to Christopher. Rachel's face is filled with determination.

"By the time Finn and I's baby is born, Christopher will already be taking milk and eating solid foods," She's nodding with her words and Kurt can tell she's trying to convince herself as well that she can do this. Rachel tosses her hair and takes a deep breath, "I lactate now on a regular basis since I've progressed," Rachel says the words hurriedly as Kurt's face contorts into something that she reads as do-not-want, "And I will have plenty of milk to feed him before baby Finchel once he or she is born."

"Baby Finchel?" It's quiet for a moment before they start laughing. It gets quiet again. Rachel holds her arms out again and carefully, Kurt hands Christopher to her. Rachel sit down, leaning against the shelf and makes herself as comfortable as possible. Her hands are shaking slightly. Christopher's face turns inward towards her chest, mouthing her breast through her shirt, and obvious sign of hunger. He begins to whimper again when the milk is not given.

She figures Kurt will leave, but he doesn't. Instead, he sits beside her and keeps his eyes ahead to give her the privacy she needs as she pulls up her shirt, but the company she wants while Christopher latches onto her nipple and begins to drink.

* * *

_This is a statewide emergency report. If you can hear this, if there is more than just you out there, Canada's borders are open to you. I repeat, Canada's borders are open to you. This is a statewide emergency report. If you can hear this, if there is more than just you out there, Canada's borders are open to you. I repeat, Canada's borders are open to you..._

Sue leaned back in her seat. The message faded in and out several times before she managed to put the message all together. Becky had run to get her when the message faded into frequency. It was never-ending, but it was leading them in their new direction.

She'd bring it to the people tomorrow morning.

* * *

Kurt gazed up at the ceiling. He actually couldn't see it in the dark as his eyes tried to find patterns in the shadows. Beside him, Sam was lightly snoring, an arm thrown over his waist and pressed against his side. Sam smelled nice, really nice. On his other side, Kurt had created a makeshift nest from several blankets and laid Christopher within it, swaddled up warmly. For the past few hours, Kurt had gone back and forth between the two boys, his mind wandering.

He couldn't sleep when his mind wandered. It was always filled with questions. And this time, it was trying to configure a plan for the two – no, _three_ of them for the next six months. It was a mix of where they would be going, who would be with them, what to do if they ran into more wanderers, what they would be doing, how to –

"Kurt?" Kurt jerked slightly as Sam's voice whispered his name in his ear. He looked over at the other boy, eyebrows raised. Sam's eyes were still closed, his voice lagging with sleep.

"...Yes, Sam?"

"I love you," Sam hummed out. His arm tightened around Kurt's waist and pulled him closer. His breath tickled Kurt's ear and Kurt smiled. A warmth filled him, starting in his stomach and it raced to his chest, and then out to his arms and legs, making his fingers and toes tingle. Sam lips brushed his ear with a quick kiss, "Now go to sleep." Kurt turned towards Sam, hugging him close.

"Love you too."

* * *

Sue gave the people choices:

1. Stay and rebuild which Sue personally thought was stupid and warranted a death sentence

2. Choose another method she didn't care about since Sue was going to Canada

3. Follow Sue to Canada

To her surprise, she found that most wanted to stay and rebuild. Not to her surprise (read: her disgust), she found that Shuester and his glee-clubbers wanted to go with her. That was, all except for Mercedes.

"You can't be serious," Kurt said flatly. His voice was void of emotion, but his face was not. Mercedes closed her eyes and was quiet for a long moment. She didn't open them again until Kurt spoke, "Oh my god, you're serious." She nodded. Guilt filled her, but she had her reasons and she'd made her choice and she was at peace with it now.

"I'm going to stay here with my mother and my aunt. We're going to do some good here with those who are staying," Mercedes smiled sadly. Kurt was still mortified, and he begins to stutter, pleading and stumbling over his words as he asked her _why, why, why, _"They couldn't take the trek to Canada Kurt," She begins to explain, "At least not right now. We're going to rebuild here and we're going to open it to travelers again. And when the world's okay again, you can come find me," She gave soft sigh and tries to lessen the blow, "It's not like I won't see you again."

Kurt knows he can't change her mind, so he just hugs her instead. He hugs her as tight as he can and he tries not to cry when they pull apart. They kiss cheeks and squeeze hands.

"You kick some ass while I'm gone, understand white boy? And you let me know if Sam gets crazy. I can get all mama bear too." Mercedes hiccuped a laugh. They hugged again. Kurt nodded, trying to take deep breaths and even his heart rate again. At the entrance of the camp, a horn sounded.

"That's our ride." Kurt spoke with a hitch in his words. Mercedes squeezed his hands again before letting go. They hugged one last time and Kurt almost walked backwards out of the camp, keeping an eye on Mercedes' shrinking. As his Navigator appeared at the entrance, followed by four other cars, Sue waved him in. Kurt looked back and smiled as Mercedes waved at him. Kurt waved back and got in.

* * *

The drive is long and strenuous and Christopher's fussy and Rachel has morning sickness and Sue and Mr. Shuester haven't stopped arguing since they'd started out. Kurt's getting a migraine, Sam's irritable and can't sleep, Quinn's glaring at the road through the window and trying not to at any one single person because she's afraid they'll burst into flame, Finn's deliriously hungry, and Puck's staring up at the ceiling.

It's getting colder, and the days are getting shorter which makes it harder to travel. Ice is starting to form on the roads with the bitter cold. Snow starts to fall the third day into their travels. They're moving almost sluggishly. Their food supply is getting low. The snow helps with retrieving water.

They're in Montpelier, Vermont when they have to stop at a gas station because a blizzard is coming down. They find two wanderers in the freezer room who are going through the meat locker. They shoot them and close the doors. The next morning, there's two feet of snow. They stay in the cramped station for two days before realizing the snow isn't backing down and it's in fact gathering. And the gas station doesn't have heat, and it's getting colder.

The trek through the snow takes three days before they reach the border of Canada at Derby Line, Vermont. It's fenced for as far as their eyes can see, barb wire wrapping the tops in unruly curls. There's a toll that looks abandoned as they drive forward through the whitewash. As they draw closer, they find it's not. Two men side-step from the toll houses. They're heavily armed, dressed in black with body armor and powerful guns in hands. As they approach the vehicle, they're all forced to stand out in the knee deep snow as they rifle through and check for sick.

It's only then do they notice the lumps in the snow of the bodies of those who were sick and were left to die.

Sam's got Christopher in a makeshift carrier on his chest. It was an blanket that he managed to tie around his shoulders, and Christopher was able to sit or lay inside of it like a sling. Kurt squeezed his hand as they shivered. They waited at least fifteen minutes and by then, Christopher was screaming from the cold, and Quinn actually passed out, tired and hungry and freezing. Puck held her in his arms until they were allowed back into their vehicles, welcoming the warmth.

They're waved inside and the roads are lined with the same tall, barbwire covered fences. The snow is lumped as further flakes fall atop of them and even the landscape out. Kurt hopes they're wanderers. It's another two hours before they see a sign on the road that says _Bienvenue à Montréal!_

"Welcome to Montréal." Kurt reads aloud as they pass. There's a collective sigh in the car, and it's of relief.

The entire city is blockaded in with a wall that has to at least be thirty feet tall. It seems to be hurriedly made, but it looks sturdy enough to keep outside forces from getting in. The barbwire gates stand at the entrance and another pair of heavily armed men appear to open the gates.

It's cold, and it's snowing and the skies are gray, but the people are the most welcoming, generous people they've all met. Or at least, it feels that way since the hell they'd all gone through. The city's large, and there's hotels lined up down every street beside houses that stretch every which way. The hotel rooms are warm, and the lights are a dim yellow and the beds are soft and – _oh my god_, there's electricity. They're all taking hot showers and after their own, Kurt and Sam bathe Christopher in the small sink. Rachel nurses him and puts him to bed.

About an hour later, they're all asleep. Except for Kurt, who's up thinking again. He can hear Finn and Rachel in the other bed. Sam's spooned up behind him and on a cot on the floor, bundled up and warm, Christopher lays sleeping like the rest of them. Kurt's staring at the wall, his mind racing.

Sam scares him again by mumbling his name, "Kurt?"

"I love you too, Sam." Kurt answers before Sam gets to it first and he hears Sam snort sleepily, squeezing him tighter. Sam's hand pushes hair from his face lazily and kisses the back of his neck. Kurt turns his head and gives the other boy a kiss. Sam nuzzles into his neck and holds him tight as Kurt rests a hand over Sam's, linking their fingers together.

"Kurt?"

"Sam, I already said I–"

"I'm just telling you to go to bed." Sam chuckles and Kurt rolls his eyes, giggling.

"I love you Sam."

"I love you too, Kurt."

_

* * *

Reviews are love._


	10. Chapter 10

**Title:** All Those Who Wander Are Lost 10/10 -_ Epilogue_

**Rating**: PG-13

**Character(s)/Pairing(s):** Kurt Hummel/Sam Evans (with other pairings thrown in along the way)

**Author Notes:** Last chapter, guys. LAST. FREAKING. CHAPTER. It had to end sometime even though I didn't want it to. This has been just awesome and you Kummers have been amazing and personally, this fic has to be the best thing I've ever written and I'm so glad you all liked it. : D

**Warning:** language, sexual situations.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own. Maybe a good thing. There'd be gay sex every where. With Kurt. Everywhere.

* * *

___Montréal_ turned out to be the safe haven they'd been forever searching for. In the center of the vast city was the _Montréal_ Military Base. Inside, they were keeping tabs with areas registered safe. There was a map that covered the entire wall. Blue pins meant safe. Red pins meant unsafe. Yellow meant undetermined.

_Most of the map seemed to be covered in reds and yellows across the board. Boston was marked red. There were more blues that people had expected: Paris, France, Toledo, Spain, San Diego, California, Sydney, Australia, Santiago, Chile, Jacksonville, Florida, Houston, Texas, __Montréal, Canada, Iquitos, Peru, Pueblo, Colorado, Little Rock, Arkansas, Alexandria, Egypt, Cape Town, South Africa, Kisangani, Democratic Republic of the Congo, Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia, Xi'an, Guiyang, Nanchang, and Kashi, China, New Delhi, India, Oslo, Norway, and Samara, Russia._

___The base kept in contact with all of them._

___Sue would never tell anyone how she cried in the privacy of her room when spoke to survivors in Iquitos, Peru. In a world where she expected to be the only one left in the near future, to hear people and their voices, to hear hope from elsewhere on the planet – it could bring anyone to their knees. And it brought Sue Sylvester down with it._

_

* * *

_

___Montréal was a lively city despite the snow and the world outside their walls. People still went on with their daily business. There were patrols that were observed of course, but hunters also went out and retrieved what food they could to help keep shelves stocked and people fed._

___People worked, but they didn't work for money anymore. There was no point. They worked for self-satisfaction and for the goodness of others. They cleaned houses, they patched pipes and repaired electrical lines, they educated children, they took care of the sick, they shoveled streets, they did everything._

___It was as if the apocalypse had brought with it the world's greatest collaboration._

_

* * *

_

___Slowly, so very achingly slow, more blue pins were tacked to the board._

___The radio contacts were becoming stronger._

_

* * *

_

___It's another two months when the snow's becoming less and the air is less biting. Christmas passes with eggnog (spiked with god only knows what, courtesy of Puck) and new friends and they sing as a group for the first time in weeks upon weeks._

___Christopher was learning to crawl when Boston's red pin was replaced with a blue. Sam was seated across from the infant, clapping his hands and urging the child to come to him. Kurt was doing dishes in the hotel sink from lunch (which Christopher happened to get all over his new Marc Jacobs shirt – yes, Montréal had a top designer store, he nearly died) when Sue Sylvester came into their room. Their was stunned silence for a moment before Sue handed the large, boxy hand-held radio to Kurt. She smirked._

_"__It's Aretha. She wants to know if you're Malibu Barbie is keeping you too busy, or are you free to talk?"_

___The plate smashed into a million pieces all over the floor._

___They talked for eight hours straight._

_

* * *

_

___About five months later, Rachel went into labor. She's been teaching choir lessons with Mr. Shuester to the children who attend the makeshift school that was designated inside the military base. She's pulling a Julie Andrews "Do Re Mi" with the children when the odd tightening sensation starts under the weight of her belly. __She's about two weeks from her due date, so she pays it no mind. She's back in the hotel room, and Finn's talking absently to her stomach, rubbing a hand over it as they're laying on the bed, watching Victor/Victoria when her water breaks all over the bed._

___She's taken to the hospital. Electricity is shut down inside the building unless there's an emergency to be performed so as to save power if it were to ever go out. The halls are lit with encased candles. It gives the halls an warm, orange glow. Rachel's screams on the other hand, are not as sweet. They can be heard through each hallway in the building. _

___She's crying because it's hurts so much, and all she really wants is for this baby to be out. Finn's pretty sure his hand is going to break because Rachel's squeezing his hand so tight and won't let go. On her opposite side, Rachel's turning Kurt's shirt into a v-neck as she twists the collar into her fist with each contraction. He's hushing her quietly as Finn reassures her softly about what a great job she's doing, and that he loves her and it's going to be okay._

___It takes hours, and she's sweating and sore and tired and all she wants to do is sleep –_

_"__It's a girl." The midwife smiles tiredly as there's a sudden wailing that's filling the room and a pink, writhing, wet baby girl is place on Rachel's chest. Rachel's crying again, but this time, not from pain. It's from pure joy. Beside the bed, Finn is hoping up and down as he watches his daughter – __his daughter ____– be taken and cleaned and weighed beside the bed before she's given back to them. All the while, Rachel's still holding his hand._

___About an hour later, they're all gathered within the hospital room, beaming at the newborn._

_"__What's her name?" Asked Quinn. Inside of her, her heart suddenly aches for Beth and she prays that somewhere in the world, Beth and Shelby are safe and that she'll someday see them again. Rachel's face splits into a smile and beside her, Finn's grin is identical. Their eyes are on Puck who's watching the newborn with curious eyes._

_"__Sarah," Rachel says quietly. Puck's eyes snap upwards and meet her face. He blinks several times, as if he didn't hear right, and Rachel repeats the name once more, "Sarah Renana Hudson. Renana's Jewish for 'singing joyful sounds'." Puck looks torn between dropping to his knees and crying or hugging the life out of them. His eyes look back at back at Sarah and his eyes are beginning to water. He rubs at them with a chuckle._

_"__Thank you."_

_

* * *

_

___To almost no one's surprise, Rachel and Finn get married nearly a year after Sarah's birth. It's small and simple and quick, and Rachel's not even wearing a wedding dress. It's a white skirt and white shirt and Kurt's made her a bouquet of flowers from different colored fabrics. Her smile is honestly the best part of the ceremony and when they kiss, it's electric._

___About two years after the outbreak, Kurt sees Mercedes again. Sam's gone with him to Boston, and the roads are clear the entire way through. There's even people at the gas stations who don't charge them money to take a full tank. Christopher's walking and babbling when they step from the car at the camp. It's nothing like they'd left it. It's larger by miles. Sam's got Christopher on his hip as they step from the car and the high-pitched squealing nearly knocks him off his feet as he watches Kurt and Mercedes collide into a bone-crushing hug and never let go._

___Sue doesn't stay in Montréal. Her fame in undead ass-kicking (or so she calls it) is highly worshiped. Becky promises to look after Jean while Sue goes and helps those still in need. Jean tells Sue she'll pray for her and Sue smiles. She hugs both of them before she takes the guns and slings one over her back, another on her hip and a last in her ankle. She's got war paint under her eyes and Kurt finds that it completely clashes with her outfit, but the woman's locked and loaded, so he says nothing. They don't see Sue for another year, but the stories of her paths of destruction left across the United States shoot her into the category of a legend._

___Mr. Shuester continues to be a teacher. It was what he was best at and soon, he's coaching in a glee club even his original club could be proud of. He still teaches Spanish to this day. Though, sometimes, he does get a bit __carried away when some of the kids ask what it was like out in the middle of the hell it once was and he doesn't mind bragging just a little bit to watch their grow into saucers._

___Quinn never forgets the day when Shelby Cochran walks through the gate. There's a young girl strapped to her back with hair that's dark and in messy pigtails and her smile and eyes are identical to Quinn's own, and her nose and ears are like Puck's. Shelby smiles, and ushers to girl to her who doesn't recognize Quinn, but hugs her anyway and pats her back when Quinn begins to cry. Puck watches with a crooked smile as the girl comes and hugs him to and he squeezes her tight. _

___They tell her someday._

_

* * *

_

_"__Hey Kurt?" Kurt looked up, head cocked slightly. They'd just arrived back in Montréal the night before. Christopher's asleep in the opposite bed, and it felt like it was the first time they'd gotten time to themselves in a while. Sam's hands are up under Kurt's shirt and Kurt's hands are running through Sam's hair over and over again as their mouths are crushed together and he's simultaneously trying to get Sam out of his pants._

_"__Yes Sam?" Kurt pants, slightly breathless. Sam smiles down at him and gently brushes their noses together_

_"__This whole... thing that's happened, has to be the worst thing that's ever happened to me," Sam watches Kurt's face becomes confused and almost worried, "But, is it weird that it's given me the greatest thing to happen to me?" The confused expression melts and Sam can't breathe because Kurt's kissing him too hard._

_"__And hey, wait–" Sam gasps and pulls back and Kurt looks up at him expectantly._

_"__If you're trying to woo me with more words, you've already done so. Now. Shirt off." Kurt laughs softly as Sam sits up and pulls off his shirt and tosses it aside. They're kissing again, but Sam pulls back._

_"__But okay, seriously. You know how Finn and Rachel are Finchel? And Santana and Brittany were Brittana?" Kurt sighs, playing with the game and he nods and Sam continues, "What does that make us?" Kurt contemplates it quietly for a long moment, before shrugging._

_"__Kum?" He offers and Sam's lips pull into an amused smile._

_"__I knew I loved you for a reason."_

_"__Shuttup and kiss me, Sam."_

_

* * *

_

___It takes years for the world to right itself again. _

___However this started, no one is sure, and even moreso, if anyone does know, they're not telling. They never did find a cure, but the survivors are careful until it becomes safe to step outside into the sun beyond the walls of their safe havens. The military personnel who are left are assigned to training the able-bodied and slowly, across the continents of the earth, the world-wide decontamination starts. Day by day, week by week, month by month, year by year, the population of wanderers shrink until there's none left._

___Then, the noise begins to start again. There's people talking, birds are chirping, cars are passing by and driving distances, trains are sounding horns, the wind is blowing, the leaves are rustling, phones are ringing, music is playing, laughter is loud –_

___The world is no longer silent._

* * *

Reviews are love.


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